Panic
by stylesofstraightedge
Summary: There's good and evil in everyone. What matters is the one we choose to act on. They both take stage as CM Punk fights off hopelessness and fights for his life in a basement full of evil people determined to break his spirit through the use of brutal torture. When the chips are down, who will panic, and who will triumph? RATED M
1. Chapter 1: Broken Glass

Chapter 1: Broken Glass

A/N: For future reference, every chapter of my stories is kind of reverse-inspired by a song. By that I mean that I wrote the story first, and then found a song that paired well with it, and integrated the lyrics. I recommend any and all of the songs I use. I'm a very musical person… music and wrestling are my passions.

A/N: I'm brand spanking new at writing fanfic, this is my first. I've liked reading it for a while, but I'd been wanting to read a CM Punk torture fanfiction, like hardcore torture, not sexual. I don't know what my fascination with it is, but it didn't exist. So I wrote the fanfiction I wanted to read. Originally, it was just to be a scene or two, a one-shot, and I never meant for anyone else to read it. But it grew into so much more. After over a year of work, endless hours, meticulous editing, I have it finished. So I should be uploading the entire thing within the next few days. I'm very open to suggestions being a fanfiction virgin XD. Please leave reviews!

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: BROKEN GLASS BY THREE DAYS GRACE

My name is Phillip Jack Brooks. Most of you know and love me (or hate me. Probably hate me.) as CM Punk. But for a week of my life, I wasn't treated like Phil Brooks, or CM Punk. I wasn't even treated like a human being. More like a toy. In wrestling, just like in life, some people just don't like you. It's nothing you did, they just don't like you. That's cool with me, I don't really like people anyway. Problem is, out of the many people who hate me, a couple of them are lunatics. Certifiable, belong in a straight jacket, crazies. Said lunatics took it about 37 steps too far, and I paid the price. My therapist keeps telling me I'm repressing my emotions. She suggested I try writing them out. I thought it was a shitty idea, but then again, for a long time I thought she was full of shit, and I thought Nemeth was full of shit for making me see her. But maybe she's right, she has been before. I wasn't exactly like, conscious for the whole thing, so I've gotten a couple of my friends (yes, some people still like me, hard to believe, I know) to fill in the blanks when it's necessary. I don't know if anyone will ever read this, but the nightmares haven't gone away and at this point, I'll try anything. They say the truth shall set you free… we'll see about that. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's telling it how it is. It's time for me to come clean, all the way, not like I did back last December. Maybe doing this will get the whole memory un-burned into my brain… can that happen? I don't know, I hope so. I'm blasting music to make this at least a little fun, so maybe I'll throw some lyrics in, who knows. Dr. Kwynn, if you're reading this and I'm still having nightmares after I'm done writing, you owe me a Pepsi. I'm not kidding. _Take a breath, get a grip. _Take a step into my mind, wipe your feet at the door. Welcome to hell. I've been expecting you.

_We march the streets at night, looking for a thrill, looking for a fight. It was the first day of the rest of our lives._

Today was a long day. A really long day. Hardcore matches are never easy, and I got more beat up in this particular one than usual. The Best vs. the Beast was a match to remember, but at this point I want to forget that it had ever happened. As if the beatings I had sustained from Lesnar in the weeks leading up to the blowoff at Summerslam weren't bad enough, quite frankly I got my ass kicked in this match. It's not a comforting thought that it was a guaranteed five-star match, because I know I gotta go back at it next week and I am so frickin beat right now. I'm concerned that I might not be able to put out like I usually can with the state my body is in. But I'll figure it out in the morning. The problem is, Lesnar is notorious for being really stiff in the ring, so knees, elbows, fists, throws, a slice in my back, multiple chair shots and a F5 on a chair are coming back to haunt me as I trudge down the hallway to my hotel room in LA. Lesnar didn't mean to beat me up so bad, at least I don't think, but coming from UFC, Lesnar isn't programmed to be gentle… not that he was gentle before he went to UFC. Going into a match with an opponent as single-minded as Lesnar, especially one without rules, you know you're in for a beating. He really just cares about hurting the guy he's in the ring with. Doesn't care about making you look good, making himself look good, garnering interest for the match during the build up, none of that. Odd that he chose a profession in which that stuff is important, then. He gets Paul to do the "entertainment" part of sports entertainment for him. I've always kind of resented that about Brock, that he just doesn't care and yet he's got higher stock in the company than I do. The guy shows up three to four days a year. After the way he beat the shit out of me in our match today, I get the feeling he resents me too. It's no secret that Brock has almost 100 pounds on me and our styles can't be more different. He destroys and victimizes other wrestlers with his dominating strength, utilizing his weight advantage over most of his opponents. The man genuinely enjoys hurting people, and his passion resides in tearing his adversaries limb from limb. Nothing more. Usually it's hard for me to tell if he's in character or not. Personally, I think he's a borderline lunatic, but maybe he's just good at playing the part. Well, on the other hand, I use a quick, technically sound arsenal that incorporates jiu-jitsu and compensates for the constant weight differential I face every time I step into the ring. The Beast was a challenge, that's for sure. Paul had warned me that Brock wasn't going to go easy on me, which was fine because I didn't want him pulling punches anyways. He's a tough opponent, and I know it. That doesn't change the fact that I feel weak and sore now that it's over, though. I hurt. Plain and simple. I just want to get to my room, take some ibuprofen and call it a night.

_We work fast, never gonna die, riding up the highway, forty-five. We didn't know it couldn't go on forever._

As I search for my room number on each door, I feel like something isn't quite right. My senses say I'm being followed. I swear I hear footsteps behind me. "It's a hotel, and you're a famous wrestler," I half-heartedly rationalize with myself, but I don't believe a word I'm saying."They probably just want an autograph or a picture or something." Now I'm a highly trained professional athlete, but when people come to jump you, they have something extra in store. Always. A weapon, a way to drug you, another person or any means to stop you from fighting back. Physical conditioning doesn't make a difference then. I'm a veteran of the Chicago streets and I wasn't well-liked as a kid, so I know how these things work. Thing is, I thought that when I left the Chicago streets, I wouldn't have to deal with this bullshit anymore. Guess I was mistaken.

_All we are is broken glass, thrown to the floor, we were never meant to last, and all we are are empty shelves, try to pick us up, you're gonna cut yourself._

As the footsteps get louder, it starts to sound like two people. It's definitely not in my head. I turn around to address who I hope are fans, and I'm met with a fist connecting with my jaw. My head snaps to the side, my knees give way and I fall to the ground, groaning, as the man who slugged me kicks my hand away from my bag. So much for calling for help. Someone's foot slides my duffel farther out of my reach as my assailant squats down to my level. My chin recently healed from a slash that needed 4 stitches, and I think it just opened up. As blood drips from my wound onto the carpet, the blue subtly polka-dotted wallpaper starts to swim before my eyes.

_We fought to rule the world, not knowing just how fragile we really were. Like it was the first day of the rest of our lives._

Whoever it is takes a hold of what little hair he can grab and angrily bangs my head against the wall. I try to get up and fight back but he's forced one of his knees into my spine, giving me no other choice than to stay down. He's stronger than me, heavier too. The rotten son of a bitch just keeps slamming my head into the wall until my vision blurs at the edges and I feel blood drip down my forehead. From what I can tell, he split my head open, which means I need staples, but I doubt I'll be getting those anytime soon. A needle is slid into my neck and I lose consciousness, slowly, my senses failing one after another, my hearing going last. A a loud, gleeful cackle echoes down the hall as I pass out.

_Then the bricks began to fall, and we can see the cracks along the wall. We didn't know it couldn't go on forever…_

••••

"Well done." A round figure steps out of the shadows to congratulate the attacker, laughing. The thickly muscled man gives a cocky smile in reply and picks Punk up easily over his shoulder. Picking up the dropped gym bag, he motions for the attacker to follow him to a black pickup truck parked outside the hotel lobby. No one is at the reception desk, as it was very late by the time Punk had arrived and no one is on duty any longer. The assailant throws Punk unceremoniously into the bed of the pickup, and gets in after him. He proceeds to handcuff Punk's arms behind his back and tie his feet together. "We gave him enough sedative that he'll be out cold until at least tomorrow afternoon, but just in case," explains the round man as the muscular man ties their victim up. Hopping out of the bed, the attacker comes around to the passenger seat. In the meantime, the round man gets into the drivers seat to drive the attacker home. After he's finished with that he plans on picking up another guy to help him deal with Punk, and then bring them to a neutral location, where they were going to fix a problem that Punk has. "You see," the round man explains, "this is the beginning of his own private hell, and we run the joint."

_All we are is broken glass, thrown to the floor, we were never meant to last, and all we are are empty shelves, try to pick us up, you're gonna cut yourself._


	2. Chapter 2: Break

Chapter 2: Break

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

A/N: Again, still new at this, reviews appreciated.

SONG: BREAK BY THREE DAYS GRACE

I wake up to a dull, throbbing pain in my head and soft laughter. My immediate thought is that the laugh I heard before I blacked out sounded a lot like… But it can't be…

"Oh good, you're awake."

Groaning quietly, I peel my eyes open, and as I try to wipe them I find my hands are secured behind my back. I clumsily try to blink the blood out so I can see without the luxury of being able to use my arms. Cold realization creeps over me and I realize I am completely and totally screwed. I was right about the laugh, but I didn't want to be. I recognize that voice. That's the voice I owe my entire career in WWE to. I got my first real chance from that voice. We were so close, he can't be behind this.

"Paul," I start cautiously, but gain speed as panic sets in, "what's going on? I thought we were friends! You aren't buying into all that McMahon storyline bullshit now, are you? What the hell is going on?"

"All in due time, Punk. All in due time," replies the Paulrus.

_Tonight my head is spinning, I need something to pick me up. I've tried, but nothing is working. I won't stop, I won't say I've had enough. _

I glare at who I had thought was a good friend and begin to survey my surroundings. The chair I'm sitting in, with my hands cuffed at an uncomfortable angle behind my back and my feet taped to the legs, is in the middle of the room, and I can't see behind me. There's still fresh blood running down my face, I'm sure he's split my head now. I'm in a basement with stairs in the upper right corner. Little light comes through the crude lighting fixtures around the room. Light bulbs hanging from wires, four total, allow me to see Paul and a table in one of the corners that the light doesn't reach. I repeat each of these observations in my head, trying to ground myself and fight off hysteria. The feeling that there's more in the room is at the front of my mind, but my vision is still foggy from whatever I've been drugged with and I can't make out much of anything else. I shift my hands in an attempt to alleviate the ache in my shoulders but the damn cuffs just rub against my already raw wrists. The stinging pain makes me grimace, but as I clench my fists I run my thumb over my fingers and notice something missing. Paul smirks from ear to ear as panic drains my face.

"Missing something?" I rub them again in disbelief.

"Paul, you didn't." He reaches in his pocket.

"Actually, I think I did. Looking for this?" He holds my wedding ring up to the light. My blood turns to ice. I don't know how to approach this. On one hand, I am pissed the hell off. On the other, I'm the guy tied up and he's the guy in charge. One wrong move on my part and my ring is as good as gone.

"Paul…"

"Yes?" I swallow my pride for now.

"Please give me my ring back."

"But I'm _so_ enjoying watching you squirm." _Breathe_.

_Tonight, I start the fire, tonight, I break away._

"You know how much that means to me."

"You're right, I do. That's why I don't want to give it back. I'd like to take every opportunity to mess with you, and I think that holding this over your head is a great way." I swallow hard, I may be making a huge mistake.

"I'll do anything."

"Is that so?"

"Yes." He walks towards me, around and behind, inches away from my hands. Inside I'm freaking out, but outside I'm trying to appear somewhat calm.

"You know I can see right through you, so you might as well stop acting like you're okay. I know this is killing you." I try to crane my neck to see him and my ring. He rolls it between his fingers. "Yeah, I bet poor AJ is wondering where you are." He's trying to piss me off, and bringing my wife into this is a damn good way to do that. He knows how important she is to me. I talked about her nonstop to him while we were together.

"Paul…" I say again, almost pleadingly.

"Shh," he says, patting me on the head like a dog. "I've got an idea."

I swallow hard. The guy knows me like the back of his hand. If anyone knew how to construct my own private hell, it's him. The thing is though, I also know Heyman better than anyone. And I know that Paul will have an insurance policy in the form of one of his "guys". He doesn't stand a chance against me by himself, and he can't do much damage even if I can't defend myself, which seems to be the case. I also know Paul will have a purpose for keeping me captive, and it's not going to be good.

"What is it you want from me, Paul?" I say it boredly. Anything I can do not to let on how freaked out I am.

"Impatient, aren't we?"

He grabs my hair and yanks it back, hard. My anger boils over and I bare my teeth, rattling the cuffs behind me, trying to get free. "You're not going to get out, you might as well save your energy and give up on that. Since you need to know so badly, I'll let you in on a little secret. I'm going to break you." He says menacingly, but maintains a smirk as he dangles my ring above my head.

_Break! Away from everybody! Break! Away from everything! If you can't stand the way this place is, take yourself to higher places. _

My eyes widen in shock. _What did he just say? _ Heyman knows how strong-willed I am, and if he thinks what he's going to do will break me, he might be right. I shudder at the thought.

"Aww, does the 'best in the world' have a cold?" Asks a squeaky voice.

My blood freezes. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm screwed. I'm so screwed. It was obvious that there would be a Heyman guy. But I was hoping against hope it wouldn't be him. I don't need to see him, I know that voice. The Beast Incarnate, Brock Lesnar. If I wasn't before, I'm definitely in for it now. Brock might as well bash my ring with a hammer, because it's that far gone. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I remember the match I had with Lesnar at Summerslam, and the beating I had taken at the hands of the Beast. And if that wasn't bad enough, back then I had been able to defend myself. Now I can't. I'm wide open and completely vulnerable.

_At night, I feel like a vampire. It's not right, but I just can't give it up. I'll try to get myself higher, let's go, we're gonna light it up._

Questions I won't be given the answer to run rapid-fire through my head. _How much time has passed from when I was jumped at the hotel?_ _Who jumped me? It sure as hell wasn't Heyman. I just fought Lesnar, I would've known if it was him. Was it a hired gun? Is Paul working with someone else who wants to get rid of me? Will I live to have another wrestling match at all?_ Bringing my head back slowly to look at Heyman, I try not to think about the things Lesnar can do to me now that I'm powerless to stop him.

_Tonight, I start the fire, tonight, I break away!_

I ignore Lesnar's obviously mocking question, and try to pretend the Beast isn't there. That's not easy with a human torture device staring daggers at me across the basement. Instead, I try to rationalize why Paul is doing this.

"You're going to break me? I thought we were friends, Paul, why the hell do you have me tied up in a creepy basement with your friend who's already beat me within a couple inches of my life? Were you worried I wasn't going to stay down after yesterday? You had to know I wouldn't."

_Break! Away from everybody! Break! Away from everything! If you can't stand the way this place is, take yourself to higher places. _

"You have such a strong spirit." He looks me up and down. "Seems to be the only strong thing about you, besides your ego. I'm going to have a lot of fun breaking it." He ignores my frantic questions. He casts a maniacal smile at Lesnar. "Would you do the honors, Brock?" With a sneer the Beast Incarnate rears back and punches me square in the jaw. I barely even have the time to notice the brass knuckles before I'm knocked out cold.

_Take yourself to higher places…_

A/N: So tell me, did you see Heyman and Brock coming?


	3. Chapter 3: Renegade

Chapter 3: Renegade

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

A/N: Sone of the characters mentioned in the description don't come in till later. It wasn't a mistake, they'll get here eventually :)

A/N: Rap songs aren't the easiest, but I wanted to use this one for this chapter. Sorry if it reads a little awkward.

SONG: RENEGADE BY EMINEM AND JAY-Z

When I wake up I'm standing, my hands tied together with rope over my head. My head has stopped bleeding, but my face is caked with dry blood. The rope between my hands is looped over a rafter in the ceiling. I lean forward cautiously, then pull my feet up and hang from the wrist restraints in an effort to break them. I discover that I can put all my weight on the ropes without breaking them or dislodging the rafter from the low ceiling. Great. That's fucking fantastic.

_That same dude you gave nothing, I made something doing what I do. Through and through and I give you the news with a twist. _

I pointlessly struggle against the restraints and pull on them until my wrists bleed. My situation is inescapable, I know, but giving up will only please them. It's obvious that both Lesnar and Heyman are completely insane and think that wrestling angles and real life are one in the same. That Paul hates me on-screen, so now he hates me off-screen too. Hate is the wrong word… I hate peanut butter, but I don't kidnap it and take all my peanut butter fueled hatred out on it. Then again, I'm not a psychopath. But I'm not going to give him and his monster the satisfaction of breaking my spirit. If I can help it, that is, which at this point, I don't think I can. But I'm done trying to reason with my former manager and his sadistic sociopathic "client".

_The renegade, you been afraid, I penetrate pop culture, bring em a lot closer to the block. _

As soon as Paul steps into my view, I lash out with my feet and catch him in the gut with my bright red Nike free run 3.0 shoe. I smile at my small victory as Heyman doubles over in pain, although I figure I'll pay for it later.

_I help them see they way through it, not you. Can't step in my pants, can't walk in my shoes._

Turns out later is now. "Teach him a lesson, Brock." Heyman growls. Lesnar steps out of the shadows he was lurking in and proceeds to nail me in the stomach with the giant clubs he calls hands for what seems like hours. He waits for me to get to my feet each time before knocking them out from under me again. The beating continues as I start coughing up blood and lose the strength I need to get up to my feet again. I try to kick Lesnar with my free legs, which Heyman has neglected to bind down, but Lesnar ignores it and keeps punching my exposed ribs. Despite my best efforts, my kicks become weaker as Lesnar beats me down, and suddenly I'm out of ways to protect my stomach from Lesnar's onslaught.

_Cause, see, they call me a menace and if the shoe fits I'll wear it. But if it don't, then y'all'll swallow the truth, grin and bear it._

I want to bring my knees up to my chest in order to protect my battered torso, but I barely have the strength to stand, let alone attempt that. Heyman calls for Lesnar to stop. "We wouldn't want to damage him too bad before the plan comes together, now would we?" Lesnar nods and steps away from me, as I'm now unable to stand. Plan? What the fuck "plan" is he talking about? As blood dribbles out of my mouth, I bring my head up and spit in Heyman's direction. "When will you learn to stop resisting? You're only hurting yourself," Heyman says, smirking. "No, you just have to be the fighter, don't you? Well, I said it once and I'll say it again, that will change in due time. We are going to break you, Punk. We are going to make you scream and cry out for us to stop and it's not going to end. You will beg for us to kill you. And we aren't going to. In the end you will be a broken shell of a man. What we are going to do to you is going to make you wish you were dead. That fire in your eyes is going to go out like a light. We're going to make you submissive. And there's nothing you can do about it," Heyman says reverently.

"How do you and your stupid bitch plan on doing that?" I manage to whisper, still coughing up blood, the defiance blazing in my eyes.

_And do you have any clue what I had to do to get here? I don't think you do, so stay tuned and keep your ears glued to the stereo, cause here we go… I'm the sinister, Mister Kiss-My-Ass is just a renegade!_

His words strike fear into me, but I'm desperately trying to cover it up.

"You're going to wish you hadn't said that," he scolds. As Paul walks over to the table, Lesnar glares at me. "Good luck getting out of this one, tough guy." He taunts me before taking a scissors that Paul hands him. In a raspy, cracked voice I whisper to him.

"Luck is for losers, Brock."

_Renegade, never been afraid to say what's on my mind at any given time of day. Cause I'm a renegade! Never been afraid to talk about anything. Renegade! Never been afraid to say what's on my mind at any given time of day, cause I'm a renegade, never been afraid to holler about anything._

He smirks, bringing the scissors close to my neck, and I flinch. He laughs at me before cutting my t-shirt off, revealing bruises from the beating I'd sustained only moments earlier.

_I had to hustle, my back to the wall, ashy knuckles._

Lesnar throws my torn up shirt in a corner of the room and stands in front of me, waiting for Paul to give him some sort of tools he is forging around for on the table. I attempt to lift a foot to kick Lesnar again, and receive a couple more stiff punches to my now exposed and already injured ribs. "God, you're stupid aren't you?" Lesnar goads me. Heyman's now returning with a belt and a length of rope.

"Why are you making this so hard on yourself, Punk? I recommend you stop fighting, it's only going to get worse if you keep being this stubborn," Paul threatens me, making my blood boil. He knows exactly how it's tearing me apart inside to be at his mercy without any sort of way to fight back.

_Just know why I chose my own fate. I drove right past the fork in the road and went straight. _

Lesnar ties my feet together tightly with the rope, earning him a kick to the face.

"Get off me, you fuck-faced lackey!" I scream, trying to kick Lesnar again with my bound feet.

_To shatter the picture in which of that as they paint me as a monger of hate, satanist, scatter-brained atheist, but that ain't the case! See it's a matter of taste, we as a people decide if Shady's as bad as they say he is. Or is he the latter, a gateway to escape? Media scapegoat; who they can be mad at today. _

I know exactly what's about to come of this, and although it's inevitable, I'm not about to sit back and accept my fate without any sort of rebellion.

_See it's easy as cake, simple as whistling Dixie. _

"You'd be surprised how many ways you can torture a man without killing him," Paul taunts me.

_I'm a motherfucking spiteful, delightful eyeful, the new Ice Cube, motherfuckers hate to like you! What did I do? I'm just a kid from the gutter making his butter off these bloodsuckers, Cause I'm a muthafuckin'…_

It sends shivers down my spine. He's gone off the deep end. What am I gonna do?

_Renegade, never been afraid to say what's on my mind at any given time of day. Cause I'm a renegade! Never been afraid to talk about anything. Renegade! Never been afraid to say what's on my mind at any given time of day, cause I'm a renegade, never been afraid to holler about anything. _

A/N: I have no idea of CM Punk's actual feelings on the subject of peanut butter :)


	4. Chapter 4: Circus for a Psycho

Chapter 4: Circus for a Psycho

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: CIRCUS FOR A PSYCHO BY SKILLET

_You push me till I break and the anger turns to rage, why can't you just leave me alone?_

"If I were you, I'd learn to control my anger. Just face what's coming to you, Punk. It's not going to change," Heyman sneers, handing the belt to face lights up maniacally for a moment as he reaches in his pocket. I fight harder against the ropes, I know where he's going with this. He retrieves my ring and holds it in front of my face. I go from anger back to fear in an instant. I'm such a fucking idiot. There's no way I'm getting it back now, not after the way I talked back to them.

"Go crazy, Brock. Don't hold back for our little guest, here. He can use an attitude adjustment."

Lesnar approaches me from behind, my blood turning to ice, the idea being that I can't kick him with as much force from this angle.

"I'm gonna beat you like the little bitch you are."

_Got your finger on the trigger, you think that you're a winner but you're gonna get kicked off of your throne, no! _

"Take another step, you fucking dickbiscuit. I dare you."

"What're you gonna do, spit on me?"

I figure my ring is as good as gone… what do I have to lose?

"Why don't you untie me and we can see who the real man is you stupid son of a bi—" I'm cut off as Lesnar starts whipping me with all his might. Which is a lot of might. It tears into my back, red hot agony coming down in angry stripes. I feel my blood being shed once again courtesy of the same dickhead as before. Doing my best to hold in the screams that desperately want to escape my lips, I keep my head down. No, I won't give him what he wants. My resolve sure is being tested though.

_You think you're gonna hurt me? Get ready to get dirty. You created this beast inside. _

"Any smart remarks now, Mr. Pipebomb?" Heyman continues to taunt me as Lesnar mercilessly brings the weapon down across my back. As the belt cracks down on me again and again, I arch my back away from the stupid bastard and thrash wildly with my feet, knowing I'm not going to hit anything, and of course nothing I do will make the abuse stop. When in doubt, cuss them out. "Fuck you Heyman!" *crack* "Fuck you," *crack* "and your stupid," *crack* "sadistic," *crack* "bastard," *crack* "boyfriend!"*crack* "Go to hell!" *crack* "I'm going to kill," *crack* "both of you once," *crack* "I get out of," *crack* "this hellhole!" *crack* "Fuck!" *crack* "Fuck!" *crack* "Fuck!" *crack* "Fuck." *crack* "Fuck." *crack* "Fuck." *crack* "Fuck." *crack* "Stop, dammit! *crack* "Fu-" *crack* "AH!" *crack*

My threats lose emphasis as I lose myself in the pain. Soon, hating myself for being so weak, I give in to the misery and a small yelp begins to follow each of those damn lashes.

_Pull the noose tighter and lift a little higher, cause you're killing me slow, I ain't ready to die. _

I allow myself to dangle from my hand restraints as I pull my legs up every time the whip snaps across my back, purely out of reflex as I know there is no way for me to protect my back. Doing my best to swing at them with my bound legs, I try futilely to get free. I yank on the rope pinioning my arms overhead and kick out weakly to try to catch Lesnar off guard. I even make contact a few times, but so much of my strength is gone that my kicks have little or no effect on the Beast.

_Tonight, get ready for a fight, so now you know it's time to ride a circus for a psycho. _

He hits me a couple more times before stepping back to admire his sick handiwork.

_Round and round we go, look out below cause I want off this, I want off this circus for a psycho. _

Groaning, I close my eyes as hate for Paul and Lesnar and myself for getting into this situation manifests.

_Psycho-c-c-co,_

The weakness in my body causes me to hang pitifully from the rafter, my legs limp behind me.

_Circus for a psycho,_

Since he stopped, I feel the agony as fire, washing over me as I'm not distracted from it by the immediate pain of the next strike anymore.

_Psycho, here we go. _

It comes as white hot knives stabbing all over me. It's all I can do not to start begging to be let go or crying, the pain is unbearable. I can feel how mangled my back is, covered in blood and welts. I definitely need medical attention, but they aren't even close to done and I know no help is coming for me. The stupid Paulrus smiles his stupid, shit-faced grin.

_Everybody down, gonna burn it to the ground, can't keep this beast inside. _

"Did you enjoy yourself, Punk? Do you think that maybe you're going to be more polite from now on? Or would you rather do this again sometime?"

_Never again, never again, never again, never again, you're killing me slow but I ain't ready to die. _

Once again I can't stand on my feet, and I refuse to bring my head up to meet the gaze of the man who ordered this savage beating, worrying I won't be able to stay strong. Paul clears his throat, which must have been some sort of signal to Lesnar, cause he grabs my chin and forces me to look up. I groan and wince as my head is yanked up and Heyman's ugly mug is suddenly right up in my face again. My back feels like it was attacked by a pack of rabid wolves and I don't trust myself to answer in a steady voice. Instead, I take whatever fire I have left inside me and force it into the glare I give Heyman, trying to convey that he's going to have to try harder than that.

_You think you're gonna hurt me, get ready to get dirty, gonna burn this place to the ground!_

He rolls my ring in his palm.

"Yeah, something tells me you aren't getting this back. But you can have it your way. Let's see if a night tied up like the bratty little bitch you are will change your mind. " Paul gives me a swift kick in my injured ribs for good measure before heading up the stairs with his "guy" in tow.

_Psycho, here we go…_

A/N: Dickbiscuit is like my favorite insult ever XD. Please review! :)


	5. Chapter 5: Heretic

Chapter 5: Heretic

A/N: HUGE thanks to Ohhh My My Ambrose for being my story's first and only follower! Ok a huge fan of your work, especially Wrong Place Wrong Time, and I had a mark out moment when I saw this notification. Thank you!

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: HERETIC BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

Somehow, I fell asleep at some point during the time I was alone. I wake up to my searing back pain, my bruised ribs and the various problems Heyman and Brock have so graciously provided for me. And at no charge! I'll have to send them a Christmas card. Now that I'm conscious, I'm reminded all over again the living hell I'm in. Time has passed but I have no idea how much. I don't know when I'm going to eat or drink or piss or any of that. It's probably all a luxury I won't be afforded. Paul is going to come back, but I don't know when, how long I'll have to wait or if he's going to have Lesnar or one of his other "guys" with him. _What if he doesn't come back? What if I'm left alone here to slowly die of dehydration? What if… __**stop panicking**__. That's what he wants. It won't do you any good. _My shoulders are aching and my arms are numb from being held up for God-knows-how-long. I'm so disoriented.

_As they search for blood, all eyes descend on one. Honest man in chains, but that doesn't matter anyway. My judgement day. _

I bring my bound legs under me and stand shakily. The strength I lacked last night has come back in some capacity and I'm fairly confident I can handle whatever Paul plans on throwing at me today. Even if I don't stand a chance, I'm going to have to try, if I want to keep denying him what he wants. Little did I know that I'd turn out to be wrong. So, so very wrong.

"Paaaaaauuuulllll!" I sing. "Oh paaauullll! Come out, come out wherever you are!" I sing. I continue being as annoying as humanly possible until he finally pounds down the steps.

"**What** do you **want**?" He has this exaggerated look of exasperation on his face, and he stares at me like I am the stupidest thing he's even encountered. Like he can't even begin to comprehend how stupid I am.

_My flesh will feed the demon, no trial, no case for reason. I've been chosen to pay with my life. _

"Oh nothing, just wanted to make sure you're still the same two-faced, backstabbing, conniving, evil SOB that you were when we last saw each other. Which was so, so much fun, by the way. I don't think I mentioned just how much I enjoyed that. Can't wait to do it again sometime. I'm sure we will."

"And you're the same insufferably cocky, ignorant smartass. Some things never change." I look to his hands and notice he has some water, a bucket and a knife. I sigh and roll my neck side to side, cracking the kinks out. Scraping at the ground with my shoes that barely reach the floor, I stare at him with contempt.

"In that case, let me give the insufferable smartass remark that I'm sure you were expecting when you came down here." I furrow my eyebrows. "So you're back again, fucker? Haven't had enough fun? Want to take a couple more shots while I can't fight back, like the bratty little bitch **you **are?" I regard him with my usual verbal jabs and lean forward against the ropes, trying to get a better look at Heyman to see what sort of mood he's in, what he's going to do to me. I know him pretty well, so I used to be able to kind of read him like a book. But I never thought he'd be capable of this, so maybe I don't know him like I thought I did.

_Mad men? Define what mad is. Turning witches and saints to ashes. _

Uncharacteristically quiet, Paul sets down the jug of water and the bucket. He takes the knife and brings it near me. I flinch again, but he just cuts the ropes that have held my arms above my head for so long. I don't bother trying to kick him, cause one slip from that knife and I've got a much larger problem on my hands. I fall onto my knees out of weakness and struggle to get back up. Once I do, I ball my fists up and get into a defensive position as best I can with my feet tied together, ready to defend myself against Heyman and the knife in his hand if it's necessary. Paul uses his foot to sweep my bound legs out from underneath me, making me fall to the ground in a heap on my injured back. So I get hit with another wave of agony, and I feel like I'm going to pass out. I don't want Paul to know that though, so I suppress a scream of pain with a quiet "fucker!" and give Heyman a glare, trying to get up again. "Don't get any ideas," Paul warns me as he moves back towards the stairs. "I swear to God if you try anything, I'll bring Brock back down here. You don't want that, do you? After the way he beat you like a bitch yesterday?"

"Is bitch the only word you know?" He shakes his head.

"Is pride the only emotion **you** know? Or maybe it's just stupidity. Doesn't really make a difference, you're your own worst enemy at this point. I would utilize my resources if I were you. You're going to need as much strength as you can get today." With that, Paul heads back up the stairs and leaves me alone with the water and the bucket.

_Rising masses marching to find heretic blood. _

I'm gonna need what now? The fuck more can they do? _Don't ask that. Don't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to. _"That's right, get the fuck away from me, you coward!" It's all I can do, spew insults at Paul. I know it's going to make him mad, and even if it means catching it worse from Brock or one of Paul's other lapdogs from his infinite stash, my instincts tell me to keep fighting. My pride won't allow me to give up. This would be so much easier if my pride would just shut up a little so I can live to see tomorrow with all my limbs attached. Straightening my legs out in front of me, I start shaking my arms out to get the feeling back. I get Paul's message loud and clear. His intention is not to kill me, just to make me beg him to. Sounds like fun. Can't wait.

_Impose your will on me, until fire sets me free. _

But something is still sticking in my mind. Who jumped me if it wasn't Paul and it wasn't Brock? I figure Paul was there, I heard his laugh just before I blacked out. His sadistic tendencies wouldn't allow him to miss it anyway. He wants to see this all the way through. And right after Lesnar busted up my ribs, he said something about waiting until "the plan" came together... What plan? I feel like there's a missing piece here, a person Paul is collaborating with. He has to be strong, but smart too. But it's killing me not to know what or who is coming next, which I'm sure is all part of their plan to rape me of my sanity.

_The flames of hell burn bright, my fate decided by their lies, final demise. _

I make it onto my knees after a brief struggle and take a piss in the bucket. I then turn to the water. I'm not stupid. I know it's probably drugged. But I don't really care at this point. If they want something to happen, it'll happen. One way or another. as I'm not planning on dying of thirst and I down it all quickly. Sure enough, I feel pretty woozy afterwards and end up drifting off to a drug-induced sleep.

_Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me like this. I've walked a fragile line and I've fallen down. Please don't leave me._

A/N: Please review!


	6. Chapter 6: Lost in the Echo

Chapter 6: Lost in the Echo

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: LOST IN THE ECHO BY LINKIN PARK

I wake up some unknown amount of time later on my knees with my hands held above me with handcuffs. A long link of chain connects the cuffs to the ceiling and manacles, a set around my ankles and the other around my upper calves, right before my knee, both attached to the floor. This time I don't bother pulling on my restraints as I know they won't come off and my wrists are already mangled. This is something I have control over, pretty much the only thing, so I don't want to make it worse. Plus, in this particular predicament I can't really move at all. I can rotate my wrists and arch my back, and that's pretty much it. Whole lot of good that does me. But that's the least of my problems.

_You were that foundation, never gonna be another one, no. _

Food hasn't been an option for at least two days, my back is mutilated, my ribs are busted up, my head is bloody and I'm being held captive by a vengeful evil genius and his unlimited supply of goons. There really is no way out of this. But I'm not about to give up.

_I followed, so taken, so conditioned I could never let go. _

I'm alone for a while in this position before Paul meanders down the stairs, taking his sweet ass time. _He's enjoying this,_ _he's enjoying making me wait to find out what living hell I'm going to be put through today. _"Was beginning to wonder if you'd ever show up."

"Shh, shh. Don't ruin this for me."

_Then sorrow, then sickness, then the shock when you flip it on me. _

Paul smiles creepily and makes a motion for someone to follow him. I'm ready for Brock Lesnar or an old ECW Heyman guy like Tazz or Sabu, but I'm not expecting this. At all. What walks down the stairs after Paul might as well be my death certificate.

Triple H.

_So hollow, so vicious, so afraid I couldn't let myself see. _

The Cerebral Assassin.

_That I could never be held back or up, no, I hold myself, check the rep, yep you know mine well. _

The King of Kings.

_Forget the rest, let them know my hell. Damn, there and back, yet my soul ain't sell. _

The master of the sledgehammer.

_Kept respect up, the best they fell, let the rest be the tale they tell, that I was there saying…_

The man I had severely pissed off not more than a year ago.

_In these promises broken, deep below, each word gets lost in the echo. _

Hunter knows how to physically and mentally pick apart his opponents. They can fight back. They weren't chained up in a basement without food. They weren't already beaten within a couple inches of their lives. They hadn't insulted Hunter's wife. Our personal vendetta actually stretches outside the ropes, going much deeper than a simple wrestling angle misinterpreted by two sadistic lunatics. No, Hunter and I have legitimately hated each other's guts since I debuted in WWE in 2005, when Hunter had called me an "undersized, overrated, Internet darling who couldn't hang with the likes of the 'Mighty Triple H'". Yeah, that actually happened, it wasn't just part of a wrestling angle. And he hasn't changed his arrogant, elitist opinion since then.

_So one last lie I can see through, this time I finally let you go... go... go..._

If there was any man who might have more hatred for me than Paul does, it'd definitely be Hunter. This is not going to be good for me.

I completely forget my decision to stop mutilating my wrists and began desperately trying to back away from this man who's about to do God-knows-what to me. But I can't move my legs, they're completely immobilized. Hunter smiles and turns to Paul.

"He looks like hell," Hunter states.

"Brock," is Paul's simple reply.

"I see. Well done."

Paul motions for Hunter to follow to my shredded back. Hunter whistles in surprise, and he pats me on my shoulder blade with force. I let out a small groan and grit my teeth, finally comprehending exactly what's going on before addressing Hunter.

"What in the blue hell are you doing here?" But I already know.

_Test my will, test my heart, let me tell you how the odds gonna stack up. _

"Brock has never had any absence of malice. I'm happy to see he didn't hold back for you." Hunter says, ignoring my question. He's not lying though, Hunter does know first-hand what Brock is capable of. The big difference is that was part of a wrestling angle. Not real life. Hunter squats down next to me, getting an up close look at my injuries. "Those look like they hurt. Were you being your usual jackass self? I would think you'd be smarter than that. Y'see, when you're in a basement, chained up with a certifiable psychopath, an evil genius and a table full of weapons, it's not real smart to call them names. Are you enjoying your own little slice of hell, Punk?"

_Ya'll go hard, I go smart, how's that working out for ya'll in the back, huh?_

Hunter smiles at Paul, then takes a hold of my hair and yanks it back, forcing my face up aggressively. "Look at me when I'm talking to you! How many beatings is it going to take before you learn some goddamn respect?" I take a deep breath and try to remain calm.

"Respect is earned, not given."

_I've seen that frustration, been crossed and lost and told no. _

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really. Give me a reason why I should respect someone who has never respected me. Someone who has treated me like shit the entire time I've known him. Like a doormat. What's there to respect? I respect you, Hunter. I respect that you fucked the boss' daughter to get ahead. I respect that you're too pig-headed to see young talent when it slaps you in the face. I respect that you bury the kids and some of them never recover. I respect that you hate me because I'm better than you will ever be. I respect that you are a conceited, ignorant bastard who can't see past his gigantic nose and his even more gigantic ego to recognize the future. There. Happy?"

_And I've come back, unshaken. Let down and lived and let go. _

"What do you want with me, Hunter? What do you want? I know you don't want to kill me. What do you think you're gonna get from me? Why are you even here? Are you part of this crackpot 'breaking me' bullshit?" I croak hoarsely. "I've heard just about all I can take from this bastard. Tell me something I don't know."

_So you can let it be known, I don't hold back I hold my own, I can't be mapped, I can't be cloned, I can't see flat, it ain't my tone. _

"How about that we're working together? Is that something you don't know?" Asks Heyman, that evil sneer plastered across his face. I'm one step ahead of him. But it doesn't matter.

That was what I had been expecting to hear. But I didn't want it to be true. Eyes wide and breathing hard, I turn this all over in my head a couple times. Because it could've been any number of people collaborating with Paul. I hadn't even thought of Hunter. But as soon as he came down here I pretty much knew. It all makes sense. The surprise attack in my hotel. How Heyman talked like he was saving me for someone else. The fact that Paul said "we" like he wasn't talking about him and Lesnar. The recognition I felt when Hunter took hold of my hair and yanked my head up. It was the same hand that had grabbed my head and smashed it against a hotel hallway wall until I felt consciousness wavering.

_I can't fall back I came too far, hold myself up and love my scars._

"Where are your smartass remarks now, you little shit?" Hunter taunts me. "This whole 'breaking you' thing, it was my idea. You're ruining my plans, you're ruining his life, you're ruining WWE! You need to learn the difference between a shoot and a work. You need a, how should I put it, change in attitude. This is going to ben-" I cut him off, "_I _need to learn the difference between a shoot and a work? **Our entire angle was a work!"** I scream hysterically, nodding at Heyman. "He's talking this Creative bullshit about how I have this great fighting spirit and he's going to break it? He's been cutting fucking promos on me since I got here! That's part of wrestling. Remember wrestling? It's not real! There's a thick line. That was a work! Not a shoot! This promo shit you've been talking? That didn't really happen! It. Was. Part. Of. A. Wrestling. Angle." I yell, spitting out each word with the hatred I feel for both of these men.

_Let the bells ring wherever they are, cause I was there saying..._

Hunter smiles in this infuriating, condescending, pseudo-pitying way. "Enough talk. Let's get down to business. I figure I might as well tell you that, even though you aren't going to listen to me, this will be a lot easier for you if you just cooperate."

_In these promises broken, deep below, each word gets lost in the echo. _

As Hunter goes over to the table, Paul gets right up in my face again. "Is the pain worse when you know it's coming?" He taunts, slapping me hard across the face. "Or is it worse knowing there's absolutely no way out of this?" I try to lunge at Heyman, but he backs away and I feel blood pour from my injured wrists again. _Your legs are pinioned down, stupid. You're not going anywhere._ "Dammit," I mutter under my breath.

_So one last lie I can see through, this time I finally let you go... go... go..._

Triple H comes back with a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "Does straightedge only count for putting the cigarettes in your mouth? Or is it an edge break to get burned by one?" I refuse to show the fear that question strikes into me, and wince as I reply, knowing I'll catch hell for this,

"Make it count, you son of a bitch."

_No, you can tell 'em all now, I don't back up, I don't back down. _

"Believe me, I will." Hunter lights a cigarette, and slowly sticks it in my right forearm, holding it there for about 15 seconds before he lets go. I scream curses at Hunter and scream in pain and just scream because I know this is hopeless and nothing I do is going to make them stop. Hunter smiles as he lifts the cigarette from my forearm and blows on the red hot tip. "Wow. That looks like it hurts," Hunter mocks, poking at the hole he burned in my arm.

_I don't fold up, and I don't bow. I don't roll over, don't know how. _

"Should I burn another one? Maybe if I hear you beg like the worthless dog you are, I won't." I give Hunter a defiant glare through the pain. He shrugs. "Your choice."

_I don't care where the enemies are, can't be stopped, all I know, go hard. _

He's about to bore another hole, this time in my bicep, when the sound of a doorbell rings out from upstairs. "I'll get it," Hunter tells Paul. "You make sure he doesn't. Make. Any. Noise." He says poignantly.

"Can do. Make it quick," Paul says, nodding to me. "I doubt I'll be able to shut his big mouth up for long." Hunter cuffs me hard and glares before running up the stairs, handing the lit cigarette to Paul.

_Won't forget how I got this far, for every time saying..._

Heyman holds it to my cheek and whispers, "One sound from you and I'll burn a hole right through that pretty little face of yours."

"One more sniff of your ass-breath and I'll scream my lungs out." I whisper. Paul presses the cigarette so close to my face that I can feel the heat coming off of it. "You don't want this getting any closer, do you? Now shut up and wait for Hunter to come back."

_In these promises broken, deep below, each word gets lost in the echo. _

I decide to listen to Paul for once. After all, I don't need a hole in my face, but if I hear what conversation happens upstairs, I might be able to see who's there and if it would be worth it to scream for help.

"Uhh… hey Hunter. Paul should be here, right? Is Paul here?"

_So one last lie I can see through, this time I finally let you go... go... go..._

A/N: An "edge break" is an expression used by those who practice the straightedge lifestyle. I myself am straightedge, so I'm not blowing smoke. This is real. An edge break is anything you'd do that breaks the "rules" of straightedge. Now those rules vary from the classic no drugs, no alcohol, no tobacco, all the way to no sex, no meat and no animal products. In case you were confused. Please leave reviews!


	7. Chapter 7: The High Road

Chapter 7: The High Road

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: THE HIGH ROAD BY THREE DAYS GRACE

There's another voice I know. _Oh God, not him, anyone but him._ Jeff Hardy, my best friend, is about to step in a house with two sadistic maniacs. The last thing I want to do is drag Jeff into this too. But he could be my only chance to escape, and I like the odds of two on two.

_I told you I was hurt, bleeding on the inside. I told you I was lost, in the middle of my life. _

Paul hears Jeff too, and drops the cigarette, grinding it out with the heel of his shoe and heading upstairs. Before he leaves, he turns around and says, "I hear one word out of you and you'll feel **my **wrath. One word."

I take a deep breath. Paul and Hunter don't know that Jeff and I are friends. After all, Jeff works for TNA and I work for WWE. No one knows. There's a reason for that. We've actually worked very hard to keep it a secret. Vince has a personal vendetta against Jeff, for a lot of reasons. Some of them are warranted, some aren't. Any of the higher-ups knowing of our friendship would undoubtedly get me buried, or maybe even fired. So we made it convincing. We made our feud as down and dirty as we could. We pulled out all the stops. Loser leaves town, impersonation, ambush, stips, "making it personal", integrating real life issues. It was a masterpiece of an angle, a mark's wet dream, but it was really hard for me to use Jeff's very real struggle with drugs against him. But everyone seemed convinced that we hated each other's guts when Jeff left the company and went to TNA. He got high a couple years later and took a couple shots at me, which only drove our point home further. No one questioned my relationship with Jeff Hardy.

_There's times I stayed alive for you, there's times I would've died for you.  
There's times it didn't matter at all. _

I call him every day. It's pretty much the only way we can keep in contact without someone seeing and destroying the façade we worked so hard to create. I know that's why Hardy is here. He thought something was up when I didn't call and he's going to Paul to see if he knows where I am. He must have figured that our secret is safe with Paul. After all, Hardy thinks Heyman and I are still friends when the cameras are off. Hell, I had thought we were friends when the cameras are off too. But where are we? How did he find us?

"What brings you here, Jeff?"

"I used the GPS in Paul's phone and tracked it here to find you. Don't get mad, I wouldn't go so far if it wasn't important."

"_What_ is important?"

"I need to figure out if you guys know where Punk is. You're close to him, aren't you? Have you seen him?"

_Will you help me find the right way up? Or make me take the wrong way down? Will you straighten me out, or make me take the long way around?_

"I haven't seen him since Sunday. I think he's taking time off. Brock really did a number on him. Why do you ask? Don't you two hate each other?"

Dammit. Heyman's a good liar. I would laugh at the irony if I wasn't about to take such a huge risk. Brock did do a number on me. But it was in Heyman's creepy basement, not at Summerslam.

_I took the low road in, I'll take the high road out, I'll do whatever it takes to be the mistake you can't live without. _

"Not exactly… we try to keep it under wraps since so many people hate me in WWE and we don't want them punishing him for it, but me and him are real close. He calls me every day, and he hasn't in like two or three days. That just ain't like him," Jeff says, his southern drawl hiding a desperate note in his voice that I pick up on, only because I know him so well.

_Standing in the dark, I can see your shadow. You're the only light that's breaking through the window._

Jeff obviously cares more about finding me than he cares about our secret staying a secret. Now's my only chance. If Heyman and Hunter knew that Hardy and I are close, they might try and use him to break me. I can't do that to my best friend. But I also need badly to get out of this basement. I know trying to get Jeff down here could spell trouble for the both of us, but it's a risk I have no choice but to take.

_There's times I stayed alive for you, there's times I would've died for you.  
There's times it didn't matter at all. _

"JEFF! JEFF! DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, HE'S LYING, I'M DOWN HERE! THEY'RE TORTURING ME! HELP!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

_Will you help me find the right way up? _

A curse emanates from upstairs and Jeff's usually swift and silent footsteps turn into loud, heavy ones as he pounds down the steps, with Heyman and Hunter on his heels.

_Or make me take the wrong way down? _

"Oh my God, Punk, what happened to you, man? Oh God, did they do this to you?" Jeff is hysterics as he sprints towards me and pulls at my chains, trying to get them lose.

_Will you straighten me out, or make me take the long way around?_

"Jeff," I rasp, "behind you... Hunter." He barely even has time to turn around before Hunter pounces on him and hits him with a flurry of punches.

"Get the taser, dammit, Paul, get the taser!" Hunter screams as he tries to hold Hardy down, the younger man fighting hard to get Triple H off of him.

_I took the low road in, I'll take the high road out. _

And I'm screaming as loud as I can for them to let him go, which isn't all that loud, but it's something. Heyman retrieves the taser from his table and throws it to Hunter, who strikes Hardy's ribs multiple times with it and smiles as his punches subside. They keep at it until he passes out. He's completely helpless.

_I'll do whatever it takes to be the mistake you can't live without. _

A/N: I know this one's short. Sorry. Reviews?


	8. Chapter 8: Blackout

Chapter 8: Blackout

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: BLACKOUT BY LINKIN PARK

_You idiot! The odds aren't two on fucking two when you're bolted to the goddamn ground! _I'm still screaming, panicking, I can't get to him, they're going to hurt him, they're going to keep him here just like I am and it's all my fault for getting him down here.

_I'm stuck in this bed you made, alone with a sinking feeling. _

Hunter drags Jeff's lifeless body over next to me, and I forget any fear I had of the King of Kings, fighting hard against my chains and baring my teeth at Hunter. _No, it can't go down like this, oh God, this is all my fault, _I'm screaming in my head as I begin to plead with my captors.

"Let him go, Hunter. Please, I'm begging you, he hasn't done anything wrong. He doesn't even work for you, for Christ's sake! Let him go! Do whatever you want to me, I don't care, let him go!" I beg, my voice cracking from all the screaming.

"Aww, Jeff, he must really like you considering the hell we've put him through," Hunter smiles mockingly as he talks to Jeff, Jeff can't hear him, but that doesn't matter to him. He just wants to make me mad.

_I saw through the words you said, to the secrets you've been keeping. _

"We're not going to let him go. Why the hell would we let him go when we can so easily use him to force you to break like the pathetic little twig you are?" I flinch at that but I know that if I start insulting them, they'll take it out on Jeff instead of me. Hunter lifts Jeff's limp hands above his head, and ties him up the exact same way I had been when I was whipped. My panic increases.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no. No, Hunter, you can't do that to him. No, Hunter, please, no, you can't." I start pleading again, knowing exactly what will come of the position Jeff is in. Bad things. Bad, bad things.

_It's written upon your face, all the lies how they cut so deeply. _

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I can. Look what we have here, Paul! The almighty CM Punk, the master of the pipe bomb, the best in the world is on his knees, begging, quivering at our feet. And for what? The useless life of his druggie boyfriend? You wouldn't beg for your own life but you'll beg for his? You two must really love each other." I knew that was coming, but regrettably he's right. I would do whatever it takes to save Jeff's life no matter what the situation, and I will not beg them for mine. I'm not worth it. Hunter's taunts are sophomoric and immature, but they get to me. It isn't taking much at this point. I know my temper will get me into trouble now like it has in the past, but I'm panicking and my best friend is about to be tortured right in front of me.

That's pissing me off.

"Dammit, Triple H! He is not a druggie, he is not my boyfriend and he is damn sure not worthless! Let him go. I'll do anything."

"On the contrary," says Paul, stepping in to gloat. "You are going to do absolutely nothing, while we torture your little friend here without mercy or pity. This is happening because of you, just remember that. There. Is. Nothing. You. Can. Do. To. Save. Him," Paul tells me, annunciating each word with precision.

"No more playing hero, Punk. He is going to suffer because you can't keep your big mouth shut. It's a lesson you have to learn, and we're taking it upon ourselves to teach it to you. By any means necessary. We're doing you a favor, really. You aren't doing Hardy a favor over here, though. This is your fault," Hunter says, standing in front of Jeff and stroking his long, turquoise hair.

_You say that it's not your fault, and swear that I am mistaken. _

"It's a shame, really, that you had to make us do this to him. Such a waste of a perfectly good face." Hunter knows **exactly** how to push my buttons. Always has.

_You said it's not what it seems, no remorse for the trust you're breaking. _

"You stay the hell away from him!" I scream, my frustration boiling over. Both these men are at least ten years older than both of us. I have no idea how long they've been planning this, what kind of sick fantasies they want to execute on me, and now my best friend too.

_You run but then back you fall, suffocate in the mess you're making. _

Hunter smiles and cuts Jeff's t-shirt off in the same way Lesnar had done to me. "Now as soon as he comes to, we can get the party started. We wouldn't want him to miss anything." Hunter says, looking over at me. "Guess you'll have to wait for the show until then."

_You can't get enough you take and take and take and take and take. Fuck it, are you listening?!_

It takes a while for Jeff to shake the cobwebs, but when he does it comes all too soon for me.

_No, you've gotta get it inside, you push it back down, you push it back down. _

Heyman and Hunter had waited in the basement with me, throwing occasional cheap shots and taunts at me.

_No, you'll never get it inside, push it back down, you push it back down. _

I frankly don't give a damn what they do to me right now, but I was hoping against hope that Jeff would take longer to come to.

_No, you've gotta get it inside, you push it back down, you push it back down. _

But when he raises his head groggily and looks around, I don't see my own fear reflected in the younger man's eyes like I had expected to. He does seem a little confused, but who could blame him? But other than that, Jeff is planning on facing this situation head on, I can tell.

_No, you'll never get it inside, push it back down, blackout, blood in your eye. _

He must know that what's coming won't be good, otherwise I wouldn't be in the condition I'm in. You know, that and he's in a goddamn torture dungeon with two dangerous lunatics. Small detail. But this isn't Jeff's fault. Jeff doesn't have anything to do with it. It just isn't fair that he's going to have to fight this battle for me. That doesn't matter to Paul or Hunter. Fair, yeah. There's no such thing down here, when they think what they're doing is justified. All they want is to hurt me in the worst way possible, and it just so happens that Jeff is the best option they have. Jeff has regained full consciousness by now and he's taking this in typical Jeff fashion, that is, fearlessly and with just enough attitude to make things difficult.

_Floating down as colors fill the light, we look up from the ground in fields of paper white. _

"What in God's name is going down here?" He asks, his words slightly slurred and showing the effects of the taser. He pulls himself up by his restraints and tries to look around this godforsaken basement. I can tell he can't see much, and I still don't know what, if anything, is behind us.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to, Jeff." I mutter, taking a page out of my captors' book. He sighs.

_And floating up, you pass us in the night. A future gazing out, a past to overwrite. _

"I'm serious. One of you two fuckers going to answer me?" They smile at him.

"We don't owe you any sort of explanation, you fucking stoner, and you're not going to get one." Paul just keeps going at us. Real fucking fair. Take your free shots at us, you know there's not a damn thing we can do about it. Again, stupid. There's no "fair" down here. Jeff makes a face at him.

"Yeah go ahead, take the drug addict angle. Real original. And you're one to talk. You won't go after us unless you know we can't get retribution. What a man you are." Jeff doesn't really even seemed fazed by this whole nightmare. I admire that about him, his courage and the fire in his heart. But I know that's exactly what Hunter and Paul are going to try to destroy. By any means they deem necessary. I shiver at that thought, and at the cold, damp basement. I'm only wearing athletic shorts and running shoes after all, and I'm drenched in sweat. Whether that's from panicking about Jeff, a fever, or the beatings I've taken, I'm not quite sure. Probably all of the above. I make one last futile attempt at convincing my captors to let my innocent friend go.

_So come down far below, we've been waiting to collect the things you know. _

"Paul, please just let him go." I sound defeated already to myself. Jeff speaks up again, and although their whole "plan" for us is so convoluted and confusing, he's still calm, cool and collected. _He's _even comforting _me_.

What?

_Come down far below, we've been waiting to collect what you've let go. _

"Don't worry about it, Phil. I can handle whatever it is they want to throw at me. This isn't your fault." Jeff never calls me Phil. No one ever calls me Phil. It's a sort of running joke between my friends, that my personality is so similar to my on-screen attitude that they can't tell the difference so they all call me Punk. All semblance of order is breaking down, and panic is rising in my throat again. I'm getting really freaked out now.

_No, you've gotta get it inside, you push it back down, you push it back down. _

"Not exactly... _You_ may be able to handle what we're going to do to you, but _he _won't be able to handle watching it." Paul says gleefully. "After all, this is his doing, not yours, Jeffery." With that, Paul squats next to me and grabs my chin aggressively, pointing my face to where my friend is strung up. I try to shake him off because I know what he's going to say and I really don't want to watch them whip Jeff. He slaps me and grabs my chin again, yelling at me. "But you're going to watch every second of it anyway. If you don't, he's going to get it much worse than you did. Much worse. Does he really deserve that? Haven't you caused enough damage already?" Yeah, I have. Thanks for rubbing it in. You're a real pal.

_No, you'll never get it inside, push it back down, you push it back down. _

Paul keeps an eye on me as I angrily force myself to turn my head over to where Jeff is. Hunter moves over to the table and grabs the belt that Lesnar had whipped me with previously. I can tell Jeff is feeling sick at the sight of my blood on the weapon by the expression on his face. Most likely he's thinking of what they did to me and what they're now going to do to him. Hunter and I lock eyes and he stares a hole right through me.

"This is the part where you lose all control."

And he's dead serious. Whatever control I held over my situation has vanished, because I have zero control over what they do to Jeff. Hunter shoots a cocky sneer at me before rearing back and striking Jeff's exposed back with the belt one time. I wince and Jeff fights off a scream as he waits for the next blow. Hunter continues with these strikes, being more controlled and deliberate than Lesnar had been with me because the fucker wants to make sure I feel every bit of Jeff's pain. That, and he's not a mentally unstable rhinoceros.

_No, you've gotta get it inside, you push it back down, you push it back down. _

Jeff bites his lower lip and squeezes his eyes tight shut, breathing in sharply every time Hunter strikes him. Soon the lashes become too much for the younger Hardy and he lets out a small "ah" every time the belt comes down across his back. Paul laughs at the way I flinch every time Hunter hits him. He can tell that he's getting to me, that he's fucking with my emotions. Hunter and Paul smile maniacally as Jeff's small grunts turn to screams and shrieks and I start begging again, pausing to wince with each one of my friend's bloodcurdling wails.

"I can't take it anymore, Hunter! Just let me take his place. You can do whatever you want to me, I promise, just let him go. I can't watch this. Please." _Stupid, stupid, stupid. But what else can I do?_

_No, you'll never get it inside, push it back down, blackout, blood in your eye. _

A/N: Thanks again to Ohhh My My Ambrose for the kind words. They mean the world to me.

A/N: I had to find an excuse not to call him Phil. It's too weird for me, and I wanted to preserve the character as much as possible.

Reviews?


	9. Chapter 9: Rise

Chapter 9: Rise

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: RISE BY SKILLET

Hunter stops whipping Hardy then, much to my surprise. Jeff's face is scrunched up in agony and he whimpers as Hunter brushes past him on his way to where I'm chained up.

_All I see is shattered pieces, I can't keep it hidden like a secret, I can't look away from all this pain in a world we made!_

I look down then, finally finding relief from the horror I had to witness. My breath comes hard and fast as Hunter comes to stand in front of me. My stomach turns but I keep my stare firmly affixed on the cold, concrete floor beneath my knees.

"Whatever I want?"

_Everyday I need a bulletproof vest, to save yourself from what? You could never guess!_

"Anything. I won't say a word. I won't resist. I won't insult you. Just please stop hitting him. It's me you want, he's got nothing to do with it." I'm still speaking to the floor, but I hear Hunter head up the stairs, Paul following him.

_Am I safe today? When I step outside in the wars we wage?_

To talk about how they plan on torturing me next, no doubt.

I look over to Jeff in the dim light. He's a mess, shaking and shivering. He's just hanging from the ropes, unable to stand, just like I was.

_Our future's here and now, here comes the countdown…_

Lord knows he doesn't deserve this. His fearless spirit is going to be crushed into oblivion by two psychos seeking revenge against not him, but against his best friend, me.

_Sound it off, this is the call! Rise in revolution!_

They're torturing him for the sole reason that he's in the wrong place at the wrong time.

_It's our time to change it all! Rise in revolution!_

I can't imagine how long they would've gone on whipping him if I hadn't begged them as much as I did.

_Unite and fight, to make a better life. _

Jeff groans as he asks the question that has probably been the source of his confusion since he got dragged down into this.

"Why were you down here in the first place?" He moans softly and I feel so bad for him.

_Everybody one for all, sound off, this is the call!_

"Hunter jumped me in my hotel when I was on my way to my room, he drugs me and I wake up in my own private hell."

_Tonight, we rise!_

I growl low in my throat, I haven't forgotten the severity of my situation or the men who created it.

_Rise, tonight, we rise!_

"They have this crazy scheme to 'break me'."

_Rise, tonight, we rise!_

_"_Apparently I need to 'learn respect' and 'stop ruining his plans'. I think so far, if I were to take stock of my injuries, my head is split from the attack in the hallway, my jaw is kind of swollen from a shot with brass knuckles, my ribs are busted up, my back is in about the same condition as yours and I think I have a cigarette burn in my forearm. Not that it matters, really."

_Like a hand grenade thrown in a hurricane. _

"You were right. I didn't want to know the answer."

_Spinning in chaos, trying to escape the flame. _

"Yeah, for once I kinda wish I was wrong."

_Yesterday is gone, faster than the blast of a car bomb!_

"Man so they've really gone off the deep end, huh?" His words still come out choked.

"Jeff?" I ask, trying to get back to the matter at hand.

"Mmm?"

"Are you ok?"

No response.

"You can give me a honest answer, man. I went through that exact same thing."

He hesitates. He finally whispers meekly to me, like it's a secret. He's already picked up on the fact that weakness is something we have to hide in this place.

"…It hurts, oh God Phil, it hurts," Jeff groans, his breathing shallow and ragged. That strikes a knife in my heart. My fault.

_And when the scars heal, the pain passes. As hope burns, we rise from the ashes!_

"I know. I wish I could tell you it gets better, but the only way they'll let you forget about that is by hurting you again. I'm so sorry, Jeff, this is all because of me."

_Darkness fades away and the light shines on a brave new day. _

"No, it's not. Dammit, Phil, that's exactly what they want you to think."

_Our future's here and now, here comes the countdown…_

"You can't let them break you. And you can't keep trying to take my beating for me."

_Sound it off, this is the call! Rise in revolution!_

"They're gonna fucking massacre you for what you just said, I hope you realize that."

_It's our time to change it all! Rise in revolution!_

Pausing, he coughs, then winces as the small action sends shock waves of pain through his body. I know, because not too long ago I was in that same position.

_Unite and fight, to make a better life. _

He shakes his head sharply, doing his best to re-focus. "You're giving them an all-access pass to take away the one form of self-defense you have."

_Everybody one for all, sound off, this is the call!_

"Now, there's no telling what they're going to do if you go back on your word, so you're going to have to sit pretty for them."

_Tonight, we rise!_

"But after that I swear to God you have to fight them as hard as you can."

_Rise, tonight, we rise!_

"But only your battles, not mine. You're gonna kill yourself if you keep doing what you're doing," Jeff says, some of his fire blazing in the quiet words.

_Rise, tonight, we rise!_

"But Jeff-"

"No buts."

_In a world gone mad, in a place so sad, sometimes it's crazy to fight for what you believe!_

Jeff groans in pain again. "You need to let me help you take the heat, or you're going to end up exactly how they want you."

_But you can't give up if you wanna keep what you love!_

"Broken. You can't stop fighting. Even if it means they hurt you worse. Or hurt me worse. You gotta keep fighting them."

_Never give up, no!_

"They can't win. We're fucked if they win."

_Rise, like we're alive, tonight, we rise!_

I try to protest, but Hardy shushes me as the door opens upstairs and someone enters the house.

_Make a better life, tonight, we rise!_

'But Jeff' are gonna be the last words I say for a long time.

_Rise._

A greeting and a laugh are exchanged, but I can't make out the voice of the visitor before my tormentors come back downstairs.

_Rise._

Oh no.

_Rise_.

No.

_Rise in revolution. _

_Rise._

A/N: I know this was short, but I had to cut it off there.

Reviews?


	10. Chapter 10: Points of Authority

Chapter 10: Points of Authority

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG: POINTS OF AUTHORITY BY LINKIN PARK

_Shit. _

Everyone's favorite squeaky-voiced sociopath is with them. I see Jeff stand up in surprise out of the corner of my eye. I can't decide between fear and anger, so I show a little of both. Frantically backing away from Lesnar as much as my binds will allow, which is next to zero, I scream with my eyes to my best ability. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Fuck, you promised you wouldn't say a word. Oh God, for Jeff's sake you gotta stay quiet. _

I look frantically from Lesnar to Jeff then to Lesnar and then Paul and Hunter. Jeff looks at me with something filled with fear that seemed like _no, this can't be happening, you're fucked and there's nothing I can do about it. _I groan behind clenched teeth. Definitely shot myself in the foot this time. If I go back on my promise I'm sure Lesnar will go after Jeff. So I just have to sit here and take it and **let** him systematically dismantle me. As Paul approaches me I ball up my fists out of instinct. He looks down at me condescendingly.

"Do you remember what your pathetic, begging ass promised us?" I look at the ground, fuming and trying to keep it inside. _Get away from me, get away, please._ He slaps me, once, twice, three times and I stare at the concrete, attempting to stop my body from shaking with anger. But my fists stay as they were, I won't let them take everything from me. I hear some shuffling on the ground and I think there's someone different in front of me. It doesn't matter. I'm standing my ground, even though I can't stand, and I continue to avert my eyes to the floor. Someone clears their throat but I'm not looking at them. I won't look at them. It's Hunter's voice this time, it doesn't seem angry. They have me where they want me.

_Forfeit the game before somebody else takes you out of the frame, and puts your name to shame, cover up your face, you can't run the race, the pace is too fast, you just won't last._

"I do remember that your _best friend _took quite the beating from… it was me, wasn't it? I tore into your buddy's flesh with a belt and I made you watch as you're on your knees, helpless to stop us." I can hear the smile in his voice, I know he's enjoying watching me squirm. "Oh he tried, he tried real hard to keep it in. But we got him screaming his fucking lungs out, didn't we? Blood poured down his back and I kept lashing him, over and over. He wouldn't beg though, he wouldn't to go down. He's a tough little shit, but I don't give up either. Pain is a strange animal, Brooks. It changes people. Even the _strongest spirits _can be pushed over the edge, because **everyone **has a breaking point. You think you're some kind of superhuman, that you can't be taken down. You're mortal. Weak. Neither one of you have reached yours yet, but if you're thinking you can survive this without leaving a piece of yourself behind, you're crazy. We are going to **take** a part of you. That defiant, outspoken, strong-willed part. What makes Jeff so fierce, so passionate and free spirited. What makes you so quick witted, what gives you all your confidence and your drive to work harder than anyone else. You may think those are good qualities, you may value these parts of your personality. Maybe because it gets you over so much with the crowd, or perhaps you honestly think that it could save you in a situation like this? Do you know what I see in your coveted characteristics? Weakness. Flaws. Stubbornness. Fear that we are going to exploit." I can hear his footsteps leave me and I look up because I know exactly where he's going.

Jeff.

Like they haven't done enough.

Hunter smiles in a way that makes me involuntarily rattle my chains overhead. Because as mad as all of this makes me, him rubbing it in my face, even though it really makes me want to kill him, that's not the problem anymore. Fear has prominence right now. Fear of what he'll do to Jeff to make a point. Fear of how low he'll stoop. Fear of how far he'll go to hurt me. Fear because I'm still helpless. Fear because he's using Jeff against me, fear because he's just a pawn in the game to Hunter. Fear that Jeff might be dispensable to them. Jeff picks his head up and stares Hunter dead in the eye, unwavering and unafraid. He looks at Hunter in disgust and steals a quick glance at me. I do my best to give him a look of encouragement and force a half smile but I know he sees right through it. He still looks as confident as one could be in his situation. But when Hunter reaches out to touch his face, he snaps his head to the side swiftly and leans it as far away from Hunter as possible. Hunter just seems amused at Jeff's reaction. He reaches out to wrap his current victim's colorful hair around his fist and thrusts Jeff's head forward to meet his gaze. Hunter looks at me, even more pleased with himself when he sees the look on my face.

_You love the way I look at you, while taking pleasure in the awful things you put me through_

"You don't want me to hurt him, do you? You'd rather I go after you, that much I know. You feel _guilty, _don't you? Because you know that whatever happens to him is a direct result of you luring him down here." He pulls harder on Jeff's hair and he lets out angry groan through his teeth. His eyes are wide with fury as he tries to shake Hunter off, but that only makes him tighten his grip. Jeff speaks, and the effort he puts into keeping his voice level is extreme.

"Stop talking to him like that."

Hunter laughs and I hear Brock and Paul snickering as well. I know he's trying to stick up for me, and I appreciate that, but I think we both realize they won't listen to him. "He may not be able to say anything to defend himself, but I'm not going to stand idly by while you make him listen to that garbage. None of this is his fault! Are you kidding me? That's fucking ridiculous! He didn't walk down here and tie himself up and give you weapons to beat on him with. You did all of that. You caused all this, he couldn't stop you." He screams through his teeth as Hunter pulls his head backwards sharply, as far as it'll go. I flinch and clench my fists harder, trying to remain calm.

"Breaking point, Jeff. I recommend you don't forget that we'll push both of you past it. It's time someone cut out that part in your brain that makes you think you can stand up to us, for yourself or Brooks." He spits my name out like it's poison. "Whatever tells you that you stand a chance against us. If I've told him once I've told him a thousand times: we are going to force you to be obedient and we are going to force you to stay in line. You may think we can't, but you're wrong. We can do whatever we want, don't you fucking get it?" He slaps Jeff harshly across his face and jerks his head back with more force. I cringe, I want nothing more than to scream at him, but I can't. "_We_ _own you now. _Get used to it." He leaves Jeff for his table and the blood starts pumping in my ears. _How far will he go to get to me?_ Fear of the unknown is driving me crazy, but there's not a damn thing I can do about it. He brings back that same godforsaken belt and he smirks, seeing how the mere presence of the weapon makes us both our bodies stand up rigid. We know what happens when that belt comes into play.

No.

No, no, no.

I dig my nails into my palms and bite my bottom lip hard as he hands the belt over to Lesnar. Jeff doesn't know what Lesnar can do with that thing, but I do. Hunter steps back so Lesnar can reach Jeff. Brock glances back at Hunter, for an instruction I assume. "Five," is his simple command. Lesnar complies, rearing back and wrapping the belt around the side of Jeff's rib cage. I bite down harder as a choked yelp escapes my friend's lips. Lesnar laughs, a high-pitched noise that makes me want to strangle him, but again, I can't. He waits another moment and then brings the belt down again, giving time in between until five had been delivered. Driving him crazy not knowing when to anticipate the next blow. Jeff is full-on screaming by the last one, and my eyes are fixated on Hunter because he almost **lusts **for those screams, and it makes me sick. He looks at me like it's my fault. "You know, if I had any remorse it'd go out to him. It's definitely not you that deserves my sympathies. You got yourself _and_ him into this. Find your way out."

_You take away if I give in._

I try to scream at him for getting off on this with my eyes, but he doesn't get the message. Hunter nods to the Beast and he delivers five more deliberate blows to Jeff's torso, pulling more tortured screams from the poor man's throat. I try to put all this pent-up emotion that I can't let out into an incessed glare I train on Hunter, flinching at Jeff's outbursts. Hunter sees me after the third strike in Lesnar's set. He looks really amused by my anger. "I know what you're thinking Punk, and you're right, for once. I am enjoying the hell out of this. I love his pain, his screams, the look on his face. But even more, it feels damn good to know I caused this–" he gestures to me, "everything with you right now. Not only the physical shit, but how helpless you feel combined with the anger that you can't speak out against us. The way it fucks with your mind to watch us do this to him. The way you still think you stand a chance. You're right, I get off on it. I'm just a sick guy, Brooks. Get used to it. Because this sick guy, he's in charge of your future. Will you ever have another match? Will you still have a job? Will you still be _alive_? Better yet, will you ever _want_ to work for me again? Will your fear of us and what we can do to you make you unable to even look us in the eye? These are questions only Paul and I know the answer to. But how long will it take until you realize that as soon as you give in things will get easier? Your stupid ass rebellion is going to stop cold as soon as you come to grips with the fact that you're not in control and you can't win. But when will you come to your senses? That's a question only **you** know the answer to."

_My life, my pride is broken. _

I'm itching to at least yell at him, cause I sure as hell can't touch him. I'm so sick of him talking shit to me, and I'm even more sick of him beating Jeff within an inch of his life just to hurt me. My body starts shaking and I can't stop it, I can't stop anything. I've never felt so powerless, which I'm sure is what they want. But then I get a thought, an awful, frightening thought that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I know why they're concentrating on Jeff, and it's not just to screw with my mind. Jeff left them high and dry five years ago when he was one of the best things they had going. And they haven't forgotten. Plus, he got over his addiction and has had a really good run in TNA so far. He jumped ship to their competition and became one of TNA's biggest assets. They're not happy about it. Not happy, yeah. That's the understatement of the century. That means they've probably been planning to fuck Jeff up at least as long as they've been planning to fuck me up.

_You like to think you're never wrong, you live what you've learned._

Jeff doesn't know. Shit. And I can't speak, it's not like I could just tell him right now anyways, he's a mess, Brock's had his way with him. I know what that's like. It sucks.

_You have to act like you're someone, you live what you've learned._

If I could be more afraid than before, I am now. But Hunter isn't done playing with me yet.

"So, Punk, you want to talk about recent events? Let's see, I beat the shit out of you, then Brock beat the shit out of you, then he took a belt and he hit you. And hit you. And hit you. And hit you. I bet it felt like forever, didn't it? …where was I? Oh yeah. We burned you with a cigarette, and then Jeff joined the party!" I twitch; he knows _exactly _how to push my buttons. "So we tied up Hardy, then we went to work on him, and we made you watch." I flinch. I want to shut him up so badly, but I know I can't.

_You want someone to hurt like you, you live what you've learned._

"And you couldn't help him, could you? You begged and pleaded with us that he was **innocent**, and he had **nothing to do with it**, and you'd do **anything**." He taunts me, I stare hard at the ground using every strand of willpower I have. He emphasizes the words I had repeated over and over, like he feels bad for me, really just mocking me, daring me to say a word and break my promise. "But we didn't listen to you, did we, Punky? I beat his ass nine ways to Sunday and you begged me the whole time and I ignored you. I had my every intention to continue until you cried or something, but you said something that resonated with me in between your screams… and his screams. Cause I'm sure it doesn't feel good, does it Punk? It got you screaming too, _didn't _it? But when it was Jeff, you were absolutely _horrified_, weren't you? You wanted nothing more than to take his place. But what you said, you said we could do whatever we wanted, you wouldn't say a word, you wouldn't resist, you wouldn't insult us. That brings us to now.

_You want to share what you've been through,_

So unless you want me to repeat what I just did to Jeff again, or maybe just let Brock have a field day with him, I suggest you do as we ask you to, the **first** time we ask it. That means none of your smart-ass comments, none of your petty threats and none of your weak rebellion." He taps my closed fists. "So I recommend that you open up those fists," he nudges my chin with his index finger, "and you look at me when I talk to you. We are going to teach you about respect, something you are sorely lacking. By the time we're through with you two I think you'll have a very different outlook on things. I'll leave it at that. I expect you to keep your promise, or else." I look up at him, seething with anger, and I unclench my fists. He just recounted what could be the worst moment of my life, all the emotions that were raging inside me and fighting for dominance are back. I can't get that picture of my best friend's face showing clearly the pure torture he was being put through out of my head. I'm still shaking. I'm so fucking angry, I can hardly bear it. But Brock is coming after _me_ now, and if things will be anything like our last encounter, I'm really in for it. Plus, now I can't even attempt to stop him or say anything.

What am I gonna do?

What _can_ I do?

_you_

_live_

_what _

_you've _

_learned. _

Reviews?


	11. Chapter 11: Danger Line

Chapter 11: Danger Line

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG: DANGER LINE BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

I can't do anything right. _Fuck_.

Paul steps forward with a key and unlocks my wrists, but not my legs. I fall forward out of weakness and hit the ground with a thud, my forehead smacking the basement floor.

_My '16 locked and loaded, all fear has been avoided, you say the words and my weapon is drawn._

I groan but I don't get up, I figure I'm not supposed to move and I'm not going to push their boundaries right now. We're both in serious danger, Jeff and I. It's Lesnar, I can't play games. I'm immobilized, only able to move my arms. Not that I'm really allowed to use my arms anyway. Basically, I'm fucked, frontways, sideways, and upside down.

_This one could be my last time, some people call it war crime. I may be staring down a lethal site, to die._

Brock grins that sick grin at me, almost playing with me as he uses his foot to lift me up so I'm back on my knees. He then focuses on my torso just like he did the first time. As he nails my busted up ribs, **again, **I can do nothing to cover up, nothing to defend myself, nothing but try to gasp for the air that Lesnar keeps forcing out of my lungs with his highly educated fists.

_Nothing shocks you like a bullet hole, leaving my fear on the danger line. _

Then, when I can't stay up any longer, Brock goes down on one knee and I fall onto it. He then clubs my back with his huge arms, over and over as each impact drives my collarbone painfully into his leg. When he stops and backs away, I'm still doubled over in agony, my head skimming the floor. I do my best to look up at Lesnar, and I wait for my impending doom as there is clearly nothing else I can do that won't result in the monster being sicked on Jeff.

_Suffering a man should never know, leaving my faith on the danger line. _

Brock smiles menacingly. It's obvious that he's not done yet as he tackles me, bending me all the way back so I'm lying on my back on top of my legs. He continues raining fists down on me until I can't continue trying to push him off, which is the only safe form of protection I can think of.

_With colors never faded, reckless and unabated. _

Brock stops just before I lose consciousness, and I get pretty damn close. I'm sure he learned that trick from UFC, knowing when someone's going to pass out. How lovely.

_They may take me but never take us all, I'll crawl. _

I'm not stupid. I know exactly what he's going to do, and I'm forced to go down without a fight. I'm face down on my stomach, and I try to push myself back up, but I'm woozy and I don't feel like I'm all there. And I'm not. I'm really not. I know he's going to break my arm. And I'm going to have to let him. Lesnar travels over to my left side, and Paul and Hunter are on his heels, I can hear their footsteps.

_Nothing shocks you like a bullet hole, leaving my fear on the danger line. _

Brock lays down under my left shoulder on his back and starts bending my left arm back. I try to get him off, but he's approaching 300 pounds and almost all my strength is gone. By now Jeff realizes it too, and he tries to reason with them. Rudely, of course. Good for him.

"Hey Paul, get your big bitch over there to let him go. That ain't right, breakin' his arm."

_Suffering a man should never know, leaving my faith on the danger line. _

Lesnar grins at the insult, wrenching my dominant arm back, inching it slowly forward at an unnatural angle.

_I know what you're thinking, I've been there before. _

I let out a small yelp when Brock starts the Kimura, and it steadily grows into a scream as I feel one of the small bones in my wrist crack.

_So think of the times, the time we spent laughing away, so think of the times, at home._

I can feel his blood pumping, and I know this is the part where he goes crazy and bridges and breaks my arm. I've seen him do it enough to know that. I close my eyes, I'm not looking forward to this. Sure enough, he bridges his back off the ground, creating a sickening crunch and a shriek from me as my arm breaks. Those sick bastards give Lesnar a fucking round of applause, but I barely hear it as I'm about ready to pass out.

_Now I find myself in my own blood, the damage done is far beyond repair. _

I try to stay conscious so they don't cuff my arms up again. That's turning out to be a problem considering one of them is fucking BROKEN. I see Hardy wince as Lesnar gets up, kicking me on his way over to the stairs.

"I'll be back for your boyfriend, eventually, Philly." No, you won't. Not if I have anything to say about it. You won't do this again.

_I never put my faith in up above, but now I'm hoping someone's there. _

I let out a smaller scream through my teeth, cause it fucking hurts, and I cradle my broken arm, curling up to shield myself from any other attacks from my assailant or the two men who told him to mutilate my arm. Paul follows after his client but Hunter pauses and crouches in front of me. "You're literally starting to _break_ right in front of us. You're pathetic," Hunter yanks my head up to slap me, so hard it feels like it leaves a handprint on my cheek, to accentuate the word 'break'. Then he takes the dropped handcuffs and threads them through my ankle manacles. He wrenches my broken arm back to meet my right arm, attaching my wrists to my ankles. Looks like being conscious isn't enough to stop them from chaining me up. I whimper pitifully, and I hate myself for giving him that sick satisfaction he gets from my pain. He then follows his bastard colleagues up the stairs, most likely to concoct their next plot in effort to destroy me.

_You know, no one said it's fair._

A/N: I've been editing this damn thing for so long that I'm really starting to get sick of it. Oh well. Only 40 more chapters to go!  
Reviews?


	12. Chapter 12: Never Surrender

Chapter 12: Never Surrender

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG: NEVER SURRENDER BY SKILLET

This time it's Hardy who reaches out to me from the place he's been tied up since he arrived. "Oh God, Phil, I knew they wanted to take you out, but this? Those cocksuckers don't have a sympathetic bone in their body! They're sick! They're twisted! They're _demented!–" _Before Jeff can finish, I interject, my voice hoarse and laced with pain,

"and so are you," I finish the line for Jeff, a quote from an old feud between him and Matt. I pretty much despise Matt, but that's a different story for a different time. I smile quietly to myself, and the pain subsides slightly, though my broken arm is stuck at a painful angle due to the handcuffs. Jeff smiles wide, his maimed back temporarily forgotten,

_Do you know what it's like to be your own worst enemy? Who sees the things in me I can't hide?_

"That's what I'm talkin 'bout man! That's your spirit, that's something priceless, that's the ticket out of here. You're so weird, I didn't even mean to do that. Man, so that lunatic gorilla is the one who fucked you up so bad?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about me, forget about it. And don't be afraid of him, he feeds off fear. He gets off on scaring people shitless, believe me, I know. We can't give him that, it's exactly what he wants…So, what do we do now?" I ask.

"We make them sorry they ever stuck us down here. We turn the tables. We do our best to act like what they do doesn't bother us. When we can't, we make sure they realize it's not going to make us give up. We never ask them to stop. We don't beg for anything. We defy them as best we can. We act like they can't hurt one of us to break the other. Even if it bothers us, which it will, it'll kill us, but we gotta act like it doesn't. We give them as little satisfaction as possible. And you depend on me a little more, kay? You're the one they want, so when they beat on you they're gonna go harder and longer and they're going to try and make you crack. They have no vendetta against me, when they hurt me they're only concerned with making sure it hurts you. That's the game plan. We do our best to stay strong, cause people will realize we're missing. Maybe we can even convince one of Heyman's clients to help us get out." Jeff sounds inspired. The way he says these things, he honestly believes them. Wonder how that feels. He would've made me believe it too, save for the fact that I know a good portion of what he said isn't true. He might think there's a way out of this place. I know better. We aren't going to be able to do the things he talked about. He doesn't understand what they're capable of. The other thing is that they're just as much after him as they are after me. But I give him credit, he's got heart, but that optimistic attitude will be stomped flat in the blink of an eye.

_Do you know what it's like to want to surrender?_

Hey, maybe ignorance is bliss. I'll let him have his ideas for now, no use crushing him before it's necessary. So I'll humor him, with only the truth he needs to know.

"You are amazing Jeff, you're so strong. There's only one problem (yeah, sure, one problem, okay), it's not gonna just be Heyman's clients. It'll literally be anyone that Hunter wants to come here, past or present wrestlers."

_I don't want to feel like this tomorrow, I don't want to live like this today. Make me feel better, I need to feel better, stay with me here now and never surrender. _

"He's got all the leverage around WWE, and he can force anyone to come here against their will by threatening their jobs or their legacies. Plus there's plenty of them that will voluntarily beat the shit out of us. We've made quite a few enemies in the back. How long you think until they come back for us?" I ask him.

"I have no idea. You've been here longer than me, how long do they usually leave you?"

_Do you know what it's like when you're scared to see yourself?_

"Paul was pretty much constantly down here. The first day, when I was tied up the way you are, he just left me alone for the night. It wasn't at all comfortable to sleep that way, I really don't know how I did it. But that seems ironic, now doesn't it? Nothing that's happened since I got jumped in the hotel has been comfortable." I laugh a little because I feel like I have to break this hopeless feeling I can't seem to shake. "Any other time I was alone it was because they drugged me. That was usually if he wanted to tie me up a different way, although one time Brock just knocked me out. With his fist. From the time Triple H got here until now, both of them have been down here this whole time, except when you got here and when Brock got here, they went upstairs, but only for a couple minutes."

_Do you know what it's like to want to surrender?_

I can see him turn the information I gave him over in his head. It's not all that helpful, but maybe it's good for something. "How's your arm?" He asks, cringing as he thinks about it.

_I don't want to feel like this tomorrow,_

"It'd be a hell of a lot better if the goddamn handcuffs weren't bent this way."

_I don't want to live like this today. _

"I'm sorry."

_Make me feel better, _

"Don't be. It isn't your fault."

_you make me feel better,_

"It kinda is. If you didn't go and stand up for me, that wouldn't have happened."

_you make me feel better,_

"I'm just glad he stopped hitting you, even if it means having my arm broken."

_put me back together!_

"You have to stop doing that."

_I don't want to feel like this tomorrow, _

"You think I can help it?"

_I don't want to live like this today._

"You know as well as I do that you wouldn't even be down here if I hadn't yelled to you."

_Make me feel better, _

"So what? I'd rather be down here with you than have them torture you in this godforsaken basement alone."

_I need to feel better,_

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That, you. How are you so selfless all the time?"

"You're the selfless one."

_stay with me here now _

"How do you figure?"

"Phil, you got your fucking arm broken for me. But you know what? We each need to start being selfish. When they beat me up, you don't offer to take my place. Egg them on, even if it makes them hurt me worse, it'll make them mad. It'll prove that they can't use us to control each other. When they beat you up, I won't offer to take your place. I'll egg them on. They'll get mad. They'll hurt you. Oh well. This is our only way to fight back. It's going to be awful, it's going to be hell, but we can do it. Let's just hope it's not Lesnar." Now that's a plan I can get behind.

"But Jeff, you know the thing about a Brock Lesnar beat down? A Brock Lesnar ambush? He can beat me down—"

"But he cannot keep you down." I smile and so does Jeff. "Is this our new safety net? We throw out half of a promo, and if the other guy completes it, he's still doin okay?"

"Sounds like a plan," I smile. "Get ready to be as rude as humanly possible towards these sons of bitches, kay?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

_and never surrender. _

A/N: The uploading of my story isn't going as fast as I want it to, but I've been doing this all on my iPhone and what I need is a laptop… I'm trying to get my parents to let me buy one, but once I get one this should go much faster.  
A/N: So Punk hates Matt… hm… Foreshadowing?  
Reviews?


	13. Chapter 13: No More Sorrow

Chapter 13: No More Sorrow

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: NO MORE SORROW BY LINKIN PARK

I take a deep breath and we both fall silent as someone saunters down the stairs. I squint to make out who it is.

_Son of a bitch!_

Great.

That's great.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Randal! I was almost worried that they'd bring in someone who scares me!"

_Are you lost in your lies? Do you tell yourself: "I don't realize?"_

"This is _**glorious**_! What're you gonna do Randal? Hit me with one of your devastating **rest holds?**" I know I'm being stupid, but this is the game plan. Jeff joins right in.

"Damn, I thought I'd seen the last of you when I left for TNA! But no, here you are again! Didn't have enough after that Swanton through the stage? Looking for some more? Looks like Christmas came early, huh Punk? We got us a bitch who can't do shit to us, especially without _asking_ _Triple H's permission._"

_Your crusade's a disguise, replace freedom with fear, you trade money for lives. _

Almost as if on cue, Triple H comes down after him.

"Hey Hunter, is it Bring Your Ass-Kisser To Your Sick Fantasy Day? I must have missed it on my calendar. How disappointing. Maybe next year." I try to push his buttons the same way he pushed mine. He's trying to keep his anger under control. "What's wrong Hunter? This isn't the reaction you were hoping for? What're you gonna do Hunter? You don't scare us anymore. You two are just fuckin cowards, you hurt us when you know we can't defend ourselves. You're the pathetic one, Hunter. It's not Jeff, it's not me, it's you. You're a sick, sadistic, chicken shit coward, and what you're doing to us is despicable."

_I'm aware of what you've done. _

I'm now finished with that pipebomb, and I wait for him to come over here and kick my ass, or have Randal do it for him. "S'matter, Hunter? Cat got your tongue?" He walks over to me with a surprising amount of self control.

"You have a big fucking mouth, you know that right?"

I smile. "You have a big fucking nose, you know that right?"

Jeff chimes in. "He's right. How do you see past that thing? Wait, don't answer that question, answer this one–"

"How many times do you say 'well, I just don't think he has what it takes' while you're laying in bed with your wife?"

_I see pain, I see need, I see liars and thieves abuse power with greed. _

I laugh. "Good pick, Jeff."

"I try." He smiles.

"You succeed."

"ENOUGH!" Triple H looks like his head is going to explode. Randal throws him something from the table. He slams what turns out to be a taser into my ribs. I convulse violently as merciless fingers of agony spread across my skin. "Any smart remarks now?"

Forcing a laugh, I try my best to ignore the searing pain. I look over at Jeff, he winces at the sight of the taser. But I knew he'd come through for me.

_I had hope, I believed. But I'm beginning to think that I've been deceived. _

"With all that hot air it's a wonder you don't float away, Trips."

"SHUT. UP. You two think too much with your hearts, not your heads. Punk, I think we have some unfinished business to take care of. We were interrupted by your shitty little druggie friend." Now it's my turn to poke the bear.

"You want to talk druggie? Talk to Mr. Two Wellness Policy Violations over there." I'm an idiot, I know, but we can't let them win.

_I'm aware of what you've done. _

Randal comes out of the corner he was lurking in. He has the box of cigarettes and the lighter in his hand from before. He walks over to Jeff, no surprise there.

"Jeez, Punk, I haven't been here for 5 minutes and I can already tell you're causing your poor friend more trouble than he deserves." Randal taunts me, sneering.

_No, no more sorrow, I've paid for your mistakes. _

Jeff and I yawn in stereo.

"You won't be doing anything to Jeff if you keep talking, cause you'll bore us both to death."

_Your time is borrowed, your time has come to be replaced. _

Jeff looks nervous but gives a tentative grin. I'm trying to think of something that will calm him down. "Ya know, you guys want us to lay down and let you do whatever it is that you get off on doing, right?"

_Thieves and hypocrites. _

"You want to impose crippling fear on us to the point where we just crumble into pieces, right?"

_Thieves and hypocrites. _

"Well, there's one tiny little problem with that."

_Thieves and hypocrites!_

"We don't experience fear—"

"And we don't back down." Good, he's still in it. I worry for him though, cause I see the incessed look in their eyes and I know they're going to take it out on him, and a good portion of it was caused by me. Randal is shaking with anger by now, and Hunter looks like he wants to murder me in cold blood. Randal lights a cigarette and pushes it into Jeff's right wrist on the underside. He leaves it there for an ungodly amount of time, not letting go until Jeff's screams echo throughout the basement. By the time he does, Jeff is writhing wildly and trying to kick Randal in the same way I had Lesnar.

_No, no more sorrow, I've paid for your mistakes. _

I force back a cringe. Jeff groans, and he looks like he wants to say something, but Randal sticks it into the space between his collarbone and his trap and all that comes out is a gasp as he fights back another scream. I'm grasping for straws as I try to think of a way to piss them off.

_Your time is borrowed, your time has come to be replaced. _

Randal goes to his ribs, first lighting another cigarette, then pushing them into each side of Jeff's torso simultaneously. This time he can't help it and an unbridled shriek of pure torment escapes his lips. Here goes nothing. "You know what I think? I think you want to punish Jeff for your mistake, because you let one of your top properties slip through your fingers, and he went on to be successful somewhere else. You're trying to make him pay for leaving you, and you're even angrier because he didn't crash and burn after he left."

_No, no more sorrow, I've paid for your mistakes. _

I stare at Hunter the entire time I'm talking, trying my hardest not to think of the anguished shriek I just heard from my best friend. "And then you're real pissed because on top of all that, he's my best friend and you just hate my fucking guts, don't you?"

_Your time is borrowed, your time has come to be replaced. _

I know I'm right too, and Randal's attention is diverted from Jeff which hopefully will give him a breather. Randal comes over to me as the splitting pain in my arm continues to grate on my sanity. Hunter leaves my side, probably off to get something from his table. I steal a quick glance at Jeff who has his head down, biting his lower lip. I want to tell him to stay strong, I want to tell him it'll all be over soon, but more than anything I want to tell him that this is just a terrible nightmare and we'll both wake up any minute now. But I can't say any of that because I need them to forget about Jeff right now. I glare at Randal and open my mouth to try and piss them off some more, but Hunter comes back with something in his hand. He presses it to my face. It smells strongly of chemicals.

_Your time is borrowed, your time has come to be replaced. _

"Inhale."

I don't. "Fuck that and fuck you." I mumble through the cloth. Someone clobbers me over the head with something hard as recompense for my remark.

"Inhale or we'll do it to Jeff instead, prick."

Partly because of the threat and partly because I'm running out of oxygen, and options, I do what they say, and it isn't long before I black out.

_Your time is borrowed, your time has come to be erased. _

A/N: I call him Randal too… am I the only one?  
A/N: Bring Your Ass-Kisser To Your Sick Fantasy Day is a play on Bring Your Kid To Work Day… it's a stretch, I know.  
Reviews?


	14. Chapter 14: Bleed It Out

Chapter 14: Bleed it Out

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG: BLEED IT OUT BY LINKIN PARK

_Yeah, here we go for the hundredth time, hand grenade pins in every line. _

••••

So Punk is making me do this with him, cause he's a jerk. Punk, if you're reading this, which you shouldn't be, because this is personal, you're a jerk. I'll give the devil his due, though. This might help. I'll give Punky the benefit of the doubt for now. So I'm Jeff Hardy, you might know me as Jeff Hardy, cause that's my name. I don't hide behind a ring name LIKE SOME PEOPLE… I'm kidding, I'm kidding, please don't come put me in the Vice, Punk. So yours truly was also a guest in la casa del infierno. (That's hell house for those unilingual folks out there. Learned some spanish in rehab, cause you gotta do something productive, right?) I'm gonna fill in my point of view for a bit while Punk is taking a break… that and he was a little bit unconscious during this part. But here's a fresh perspective for all the people that won't read this, because if Punk lets someone read it, I'll kill him for real. I mean, what's a good narrative without a little enigma, am I right? And who better to provide enigma than the charismatic enigma himself? Here goes nothing. Hopefully Punk's shrink knows what she's talking about, and I'm not doing this crazy bullshit for nothing. I took Punk's advice and decided to start blasting some music while I do this, so if I accidentally write some lyrics down on accident, whatever. No one's ever accused me of being focused.

••••

As his head drops forward, they unlock him from the handcuffs and manacles that held him down. He ends up on his back and panic sets in my chest, because he's not breathing. Sure enough though, Randy just full force kicks him in the chest until he coughs and starts a ragged breathing pattern. Thank God. I don't know why they put Punk out, but I think I'm going to find out soon. Randy carries Punk over his shoulder to some place behind me that I can't see. In the meantime, Hunter comes over to where I'm still hanging, my arms completely numb and my shoulders aching. I hurt all over and my head isn't clear enough to start insulting him. I'm trying to twist myself around to see where they took him, but my binds won't allow it and my wrists burn from the friction. Hunter pulls on my hair to turn my head back towards him. He threatens me in an eerily calm voice that sends chills down my spine.

"I'm going to untie you Jeff, but if you try to run or fight back, we'll make sure _he doesn't wake up._"

And I believe him. He goes to the table and picks up a long knife. He comes back and reaches above me to cut the rope, and I flinch big time. He scoffs at me and finishes cutting them, then moves underneath me to catch me when I fall. I try to stay passive and fight my immediate reaction to attempt to kick his ass. I can't risk it. They've already hurt him because of me. I could never live with myself if they killed him with the blood on my hands.

_Throw 'em up and let something shine, going out of my fucking mind. _

He carries me over to where Randy took Punk. He throws me to the floor and pulls the chain on the light above him. A steel bathtub-shaped container filled with water and a lot of ice bathed in the dull glow of the dingy light bulb shows up. I have a decent idea of what they're going to do, and I'm afraid for him. But something just occurred to me… where's Paul? He's a cold blooded sadist, he's not going to miss them fuck with Punk's head this way.

_Filthy mouth, no excuse, find a new place to hang this noose. String me up from atop these roofs, knot it tight so I won't get loose. _

It's starting to freak me out because I don't know Paul that well, but what I do know about him suggests he would revel in the pure fear that's about to be on display. With my back against the cold concrete wall and my knees pulled up to my chest, I put my head down. I don't want to see this happen to my best friend. I think that chloroform lasts like an hour or two. So Paul does really have the option of taking his sweet ass time getting down here. It dawns on me that they have plenty of time to do what they want to me, and I wouldn't have been worried about it at all, except that what Punk just said to Hunter is the truth. I was thinking that they were only torturing me to get to him, so why would they bother with me if he's passed out and can't see or hear anything they do? But I didn't take into account that the whole McMahon family despises me, and Hunter is part of that family. So I could be in for 60+ minutes of hell, I don't know.

_Truth is, you can stop and stare, run myself out and no one cares. Dug the trench out, laid down there, with a shovel up out of reach somewhere. _

My arms are starting to get feeling back and there are angry red rings around my wrists, just above the hole that Randy burned. My impulse is revenge but I know that's completely unrealistic. I'm in no position to pull a stunt like that. I probably would've tried it if Punk's life wasn't on the line here. I'm not characteristically as loud or as rude as he is, and between the weakness I feel from what they've done to me so far and the foreboding sense that they're not done yet, that I'm at their mercy, that I'm alone, that I'm in a compromising position here, I'm not planning at screaming at them.

_Yeah, someone pour it in, make it a dirt dance floor again, say your prayers and stomp it out, when they bring that chorus in. _

However, I do start muttering angry curses under my breath.

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

Unfortunately, they're standing fairly close to me, so when I look up at them, I see that Randy obviously heard every word I said.

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

Now Randy's the hothead of the two of them, and I realize quickly that I've made a big mistake.

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

A really big mistake. One that I'm sure will cost me dearly. _Way to go, Jeff. Way to give them a reason to fuck you up._

_Just to throw it away, just to throw it away. _

But I'm not backing down from the crazed look in Randy's eyes, even though it'd probably be wiser. He grabs my throat and lifts me up to a standing position before slamming me against the wall a couple times. He then picks me up off the ground by my neck, pinning me to the wall. Choking the life out of me. I gasp for the air that is suddenly impossible to obtain. After the sudden attack my head is spinning, and I really can't breathe.

_I bleed it out, go, stop the show, drop your words and let sloppy flow. Shotgun, opera, lock and load, cock it back and then watch it go. _

"You got something you want to say to me, Hardy?" He asks, tightening his grip on my throat. I grab at his fingers to try and get him off, but he has a hell of a handle on me, crushing my fucking windpipe like it was a soda can. The more pressure he exerts, the more pain he causes me. My feet kick out pathetically, but a hard kick to the gonads stops me cold. I try to double over, but Randy pulls me back upright and slams my head for good measure, laughing all the while. It's almost impossible for me to talk, but I'll manage.

"Yeah, I do, you're a cold, heartless human shitpile who's too stupid to realize that Triple H is only using him for his own convenience. Emphasis on the using. And you call _me_ gay. You must be a sweet fuck for Hunter if you get all those privileges. Guess Hunter gets privileges all his own though."

_Mama, help me, I've been cursed. Death is rolling in every verse, candy paint on his brand new hearse, can't contain him, he knows he works. _

I smile, defiant through my quiet rasp. I'm doing my best to push his buttons, hit him where it hurts. And then subsequently waiting for the price I'll pay for it. He throws me to the floor and digs his knee into my spine. I groan, flat on my stomach, trying to get up again but the strength I had when I got here has left me and I'm damn near defenseless. He grabs my hair and yanks my head up so I'm forced to make eye contact. I try to look away, but he pulls me back aggressively. His cold, icy, retaliative blue eyes bore a hole through me.

"I swear to fucking God Jeff, you say one more goddamn word and you'll be real fucking sorry. You haven't even begun to know suffering." He threatens, and I trust that he can back those statements up. But just like I told Punk, we have to keep trying. Even if it seems like we don't have a chance, we can't let them win. That means I have to do something crazy, even stupid. I have to stand up to Randy. I can't submit to him. I sigh and wince as I reply, knowing what's about to happen.

"One more goddamn word."

_Fuck, this hurts, I won't lie, doesn't matter how hard I try. Half the words don't mean a thing, and I know that I won't be satisfied._

Before I even realize what's going on, Randy is on me, punching my face and my ribs, focusing on my existing injuries. He presses my back to the gritty concrete as he mounts me and smashes his knuckles into my face. I try to turn him over so I can get on top of him, but he won't let up. He's got 40 pounds on me and I was beat up, to say the least, before he started. Triple H has left his post as spectator, and dread sits heavy in my stomach as I predict that he's going to the same place he got the belt from. I don't have the luxury of watching him, though, Randy won't let me focus on anything other than him and the pain he's inflicting on me. Every time I try to cover up Randy bats my hands away like they're a petty annoyance; not my only way to defend myself. Eventually, he gets fed up and pins both my arms above my head with his left hand while he continues his assault with his right. As he leans forward for leverage on my hands, he brings his face close to mine and breathes heavy in my face. "You made a huge mistake, Hardy. Now you're gonna pay the price." Blood blossoms from a cut above my right eye, and like a shark, he smells blood and drives his fist into the wound. When I try to speak, I'm rewarded with a punch to my mouth that leaves me spitting out blood to the side as to not anger Randy by getting it on him. Now is not the time to push our violent little friend here. He bangs my head against the concrete floor by my hair until I see double. When he's at least somewhat satisfied, he gets up to tower over me and starts kicking the everloving shit out of me. The next shuddering breath I take is unimaginably painful. I know that feeling. It's all too familiar to me. Broken ribs. Adding to my injuries, my nose is bleeding too now. Randy is torn away from me by a returning Hunter, who talks to him in a hushed tone that I can't make out. It's frightening how little the assault did to satiate Randy's lust for my blood, pain and screams. Randy spits in my face and pushes against Hunter to get back to me. Hunter pins him to the wall and hisses words in his ear. I drag the back of my hand across my face angrily, but the attack took more out of me than I realized.

_So I try ignoring him, make it a dirt dance floor again, say your prayers and stomp it out, when they bring that chorus in. _

When I try to get up, my elbows buckle and my face hits the floor again. Hunter hands Randy a tan canvas sack of something and walks over to me, taking a seat on my lower back and starting a single-leg boston crab. I scream into my arm and close my eyes, trying to breathe through it. That isn't working out so well. My back isn't even close to healed after the whipping I took when I first got here. The one I thought I took for trying to save my best friend.

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

But in reality, they hate me like they hate him, and they want to destroy me like they want to destroy him.

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

Killing us both simultaneously, one physically while the other mentally.

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

Looks like at this point I am the physical, and Punk is the mental.

_Just to throw it away, just to throw it away. _

Then again, Randy is known to fuck with people's heads for his own enjoyment. I'm screwed. I am so screwed. Anything touching my wounds hurts like a bitch, so the 260 pound man who struck them into me now putting all his weight on them isn't real pleasant. I bite my lip while blood cascades down my forehead and from my nose, flowing into my eyes and my mouth, as well as out of my mouth. I bring a hand up to clear my vision, the sticky red fluid coating my fingers. I try to take inventory of my position in the room to prepare myself for surprises. I'm facing the wall opposite to the stairs, and the wall to my left is where Punk is sprawled, his back against that wall and his head almost touching the adjoining one. The bathtub is couple feet away from him. That means I can't see the stairs or anyone who might come down them, but if Punk was awake he'd be able to. Randy drops down to his knees facing my left side, bringing the bag with him. My heartbeat grows faster as he gets back to work on me.

_I bleed it out, I've opened up these scars, I'll make you face this. _

He wraps my hair around his fist and pulls it to the side so I have to look at him. I clench my jaw and do my best to pretend that his actions don't phase me. He pulls a tack out of his bag and my stomach drops. The dim light overhead glints off of the point, sickeningly large and long, long enough to go deep in my skin and stay there. I can see what's going to happen. A painful ECW throwback in slow motion designed to take me out. Awesome.

_I've pulled myself so far, I'll make you face this now. _

He twirls it between his fingers. The fear and imposing sense of doom I feel in my chest must be showing on my face because he's smiling, not a sinister one, but a joyful, amused one. He takes his time with me. He's got me where he wants me, and he's enjoying the moment.

"I'd like to hear an apology from you, Jeff. And it'd better come soon, cause I have plenty of these to spare." He sticks my back with the tack and grabs another. I groan, like I didn't have enough pain going on there. "Jeff," he says in a sing-song voice, "I'm waiting." I grit my teeth,

"Go to hell." He grins this time, chuckling quietly to himself.

"Tut tut. When will you learn?" He slams my head to the hard floor and spots dance in front of my eyes. Another tack penetrates my shoulder blade. Then one in my ribs, one that makes me scream. I cover my head with my hands, taking a firm hold on my hair, trying to distract myself from this onslaught. He leans forward and speaks right behind my ear.

"I can do this all day Jeff. You may _think_ you're hot shit but I _know _that you're just as weak, as fucking worthless, as your buddy over there." He nods to Punk. "We knocked him out! All he has is empty words and ridiculous threats. And what's he got, 28 good years under his belt? That's all he's gonna get, because all he's ever gonna think about for the rest of his miserable life is this room, the people in it and what transpired."

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

"He's nothing. He's too stupid to realize that thinking with his heart is getting him _destroyed, _he's too ignorant to just give up. He doesn't scare us. Neither of you scare us. You're just as stupid as he is."

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

"He's going to break like the weak, fragile piece of glass he is. And we're gonna keep your spirit whole just long enough to see your "brother" disintegrate before your eyes."

_I bleed it out, digging deeper just to throw it away. _

"Then when we're done with him, we're gonna break you too, Hardy." My head snaps to the side at that, because he's really starting to piss me off. Talk shit about me all you want, but stay the fuck away from my unconscious, helpless friend. " I see that look in your eyes Jeff. But the beauty of this predicament you're in is that I can say whatever the hell I want about you or your pathetic little buddy, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it." He brings his bag of tacks with him as he moves to the front of me. He drops down to his stomach, just out of my reach, looking me in the eye. "Go ahead Jeff, try something."

_Just to throw it away, just to throw it away. _

A/N: You'll find out why Jeff was in rehab later.  
A/N: If you've already read the first chapter of this story, you're gonna wanna go back and read it again. I added a prologue type thing, and the story (including this chapter) won't make much sense if you don't check it out. Thanks :)  
Reviews?


	15. Chapter 15: No More Words

Chapter 15: No More Words

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: NO MORE WORDS BY ENDEVERAFTER

_I got a sharp stick, I keep in my pocket. I speak volumes, never utter a word. _

I struggle pointlessly under Hunter, absolutely possessed by anger. Playing right into his disgusting hands, whether I realized it or not. For some reason, most likely because I'm not thinking clearly, I think it's a good idea to hit him. As I'm about to reach for him, Hunter leans so his back is touching mine, still holding on to my leg. I tuck my chin, pulling on my hair, and I just scream, loud enough that it makes my voice crack. I'm not trying to show him weakness, but I wasn't expecting that to happen. And even if I was, it hurts like a motherfucker. My leg doesn't bend that way and all his weight is on my torn up back. Randy lets out a satisfied noise, almost a moan. "Ah, I never get tired of hearing you scream your little lungs out." 34 year old man, getting turned on by the pain he inflicts on a 26 year old. Fucking sick. If we take 10 years off, that's 24 on 16. But thinking about the age difference only makes me more afraid. Because he can do whatever he wants to me, and it's obvious that he wants to do a lot. Evil genius that he is, he made sure I held the key to my own escape, and made sure that key would be something I'd never want to do. So he wins either way.

_When you strike a match, a fire will happen but the line between the smoke and the flames gets blurred_

Either he tortures me physically and I torture myself mentally, faced with the decision whether to hold on to my pride or my sanity. Or, I give in and he tortures me mentally while I do the same to myself, for giving in. It's in my hands to pick which I value more. Either way I fucking lose. Either I'm an idiot for letting him tear me apart, or I'm a coward for letting him win. I groan, bringing my head up with my hands still in my hair.

"I'm not the only one who screams underneath Hunter." I snap in a hiss. Making another allusion to a homosexual relationship between them. I know it doesn't exist, but I also know it's one of the best and easiest ways to rile him up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, what did you say?" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Part of me regrets my defiant insults, but the other knows that this is the right thing to do, my only way to get the upper hand, regardless of how much it hurts. Hunter goes back to his previous position for a split second, before leaning all the way back again. And I scream again. I feel like passing out. But he's not done. Not even close. He does it three more times, and each time Randy adds a tack to my back. I cover my head again, for no apparent reason outside of instinct. I can't stop screaming. When Hunter stops and stays in the back position, I try to quiet my shrieks but I can't stop them entirely. I put my forehead to the ground and yell in the same way that someone like Dolph Ziggler would sell a submission. A constant but not overpowering wail, that usually takes an undertone to the trash talking of the superior. My hands come away from my face covered in blood. Randy snickers,"Ha! Yeah, that's what I thought you said. You know what I think, Jeff? I think you need to learn both how to **experience fear** and when to **back down**." Those were words from the promo Punk and I had thrown out earlier. Fuck, I'm in for it.

_Don't you see the writing on the wall? You're in way over your head, you're gonna drown in the things that you said._

"Now you can make this all stop," he moves so he's forehead to forehead with me. "All you have to do is _apologize." _There it fucking is again. It's in my hands and he knows how it's killing me. The only thing more terrifying than my life being in someone else's hands is my life being in my own, and yet any decision I make is the wrong one. "Be convincing, though. You're gonna have to sell it to me. You know, like you sell all your fans the idea that you actually care about them? I'm having a lot of fun with this, so it'll take some persuasion to–" He's cut off by my hand striking his face as hard as I can. The print remains on his cheek in blood, blood that _he_ shed.

"Fuck you. You know I love my fans. Fuck you." I grunt out to Psycho Lunatic #1 underneath Psycho Lunatic #2 Before he can punish me for my intentional disrespect, Paul finally makes his way down the stairs. I can't see him cause I'm facing the wall opposite the stairs, but I know his voice.

"I heard screaming—was that you Jeff? I can't imagine why. But I decided I'd like to join the fun." I blink blood from my eyes as best I can, the crimson clearing from my vision enough for me to see him walk to the place Punk was dropped after they knocked him out. I groan and clench my jaw, the pain still burning but my attention now diverted.

_Time has come and gone for words, a thousand threats I've heard before, but words are cheap, and lies are hard to take._

I'm facing him and Randy has gotten up, rubbing my blood away from his face. Paul reaches the corner in which Punk's lifeless form is sprawled. He must've taken a trip to the table that I didn't see, because he has handcuffs. Because, you know, an unconscious man is going to put up one hell of a fight. He threads them through a handle-looking thing on the wall and brings one of Punk's limp hands back to meet the other, clamping the cuffs down on his wrists. I'm still seething with anger, but that's not the only overpowering emotion in my head right now. Fear. I won't admit it to Randy, but I've been afraid for myself since I realized I was totally alone with no one to even stand up for me. But now I'm afraid for myself and Punk, I feel like I have to say something. Maybe I can distract them from my injured friend until he regains consciousness. I truly believe he's still in worse shape than I am. It's my job now to protect him to the best of my abilities, since he's KO'ed at the moment. The pain in my back and my leg– and all over really– is crippling, but I speak up.

"Get the fuck away from him, you fat, manipulative dick." It comes out strangled from screaming, not having the emphasis I wanted behind it. But I'm under a 260 pound man and I have tacks all over me. I can do no better.

_It's a paradox, a mystery, a riddle, a door in your face and only I have the key._

I know I'll catch hell for it too, so I'm just waiting with a good sense of dread for what they'll do to me.

"I don't think you're in any position to make demands, Jeff. Do you, Hunter?" I tense up, expecting him to do his little up and down routine to me again, but he doesn't. In retrospect, I would've been better off if he had, though, because instead he leans all the way back up, grabbing my other leg and lifting me slightly, in turn changing into a high angle crab, like Jericho's old Liontamer, sticking his knee into my spine. As he gets up, blood from my back unsticks from him and I bury my head in my arms, letting out the kind of scream they haven't gotten from me since Randy stuck cigarettes in my ribs. I feel like I'm being torn apart, it takes a good deal of my resolve not to beg them to stop right now. My ears ring and I feel a little foggy, my consciousness wavering slightly. I moan quietly as Hunter replies,

"No Paul, I don't think he is. Go ahead, do it." _Wait a second…do what?_ Blood clouds my vision and I wipe it from my eyes again. I'm more afraid than angry now, though the lies Randy spewed about Punk are still a fresh wound in my memory. But when Paul walks back over to my comatose best friend, I start fighting like mad to get away from Hunter, which makes my back scream in protest. I cry out but manage to say something.

"Oh God no, leave him alone, Paul, no, please no, just leave him alone. Please just hurt me, leave him be. He's unconscious." My plea comes out choked by desperation. It's fallen on deaf ears, I know. _He can't even hear what they say, he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing if they wanted to fuck with him. He's passed out. Please God let him be. _They snort with laughter at my outburst. Paul shakes Punk's shoulders violently and slaps him a couple times. His eyes open groggily, he doesn't really seem to be all there. He looks at Paul and fright clouds over his face where anger and defiance were mere hours ago. Instinctually he starts scrambling to get up, only to find himself pinned to the wall by the handcuffs. In turn a new emotion, pain, overtakes his features as he puts real stress on the arm he probably didn't realize was broken upon waking up. Then he looks towards me, already panicky, and his eyes get real wide. Like he's completely shocked; I'm sure this isn't what he was expecting. I'm not surprised. In my current position I am probably among the last things he would've wanted to see right now.

_Do understand, you'll be caught in the middle, caught in a web being spun by me._

I try to wipe the pain off my face for his sake, because I don't want him to have to see this. They're not done with me yet, not by a long shot, and now they're going to make him watch. The problem is, I can't, not when Hunter is still kneeling on the tacks in my already injured back while he stretches me for all I'm worth. He looks so afraid, so completely frozen, save for a silent "no" that plays across his lips. Hunter leans farther back and I let out a straight wail that I can't hold back for the life of me, pulling at my hair again. I get a couple of curses out, each word driving a knife in my ribs. Because I won't just lay here and let them have their way with me. I can't. I have to do something. "You sick fucks are going to hell. I hope you realize that. I can't wait until you burn in hell." I speak through my teeth. The pain is really starting to get to me. But then I stop dead cold in my tracks, wherever my words were going, because I see Randy's eyes get crazy again. I know I'm in big trouble.

"Say it again. I dare you, bitch, say one more word against me. Go ahead."

I squeeze my eyes tight shut. "I'll repeat myself, and I'll speak slowly this time so your dumb ass can understand me." I take a deep breath and push past the pain. "You sick fucks are going to hell. I hope you realize that. I can't wait until you burn in hell." I open my eyes. Here we go again. He takes something shiny and metal out of his pocket, smiling that deranged little smile he does. I drop my head defeatedly and my body starts shaking—it's a pocket knife. Randy did major, major damage to me with nothing more than thumbtacks. He has a knife. What am I going to do? Wait, I know the answer. Nothing. Because nothing is the only thing I _can_ do. I bring my gaze back up miserably and wait for him to come over here and mutilate me. Any confidence I had in this situation has vanished and I'm genuinely afraid of what he can do to me with a knife. I assume I look scared shitless because his smile is widening.

"Jeff, you're really starting to dig your own grave. I have no idea why you keep doing this to yourself. Why, Jeff? Do you think your little brat attitude amuses us? Do you _enjoy_ being systematically ripped apart? Is that it? Well if it is, I can definitely help you out." He opens up his knife and I twitch a little. I really would rather not find out what Randy wants to do to me with that. He must notice my apprehensiveness because he runs his finger across the dull side of the blade thoughtfully. That's what I really loathe about Randy. When it comes to Lesnar, he's got one goal: he wants to beat your ass into the ground. That's intimidating, that's scary, but that's not enough for Randy. Randy wants to see you melt down mentally as he picks you apart physically. He wants to stomp you flat. Make you feel hopeless, make you feel powerless and if he can, he wants to make you feel like it's your fault. Then, after he's driven you crazy, he'll push you physically until you submit to him, in turn making you blame yourself for being unable to hold out against him, for giving in. I've never met anyone as sick as Randy, and I don't ever want to. If I had to think who out of all the people I know would: 1. Devise this plot 2. Put it in action 3. Enjoy every second, it'd be Randy in a heartbeat. "Ya know Jeff, if you would just keep your little trap shut, I wouldn't have to make things so hard for you. I mean, I probably still would, but I wouldn't _have_ to. But now? I'm gonna make you **my** _bitch_." I grind my teeth together, weighing my options. I don't have any. Done. Randy slithers down to eye level with me, turning his weapon over in his hands. I avert my eyes from him. I'd rather he didn't see the weakness I feel inside. I know he'd use it against me. His uses that fake-ass sickly sweet little singsong voice again. God, I hate that voice. "Jeffy, I'm gonna need you to look at me." I don't comply. Randy doesn't need to know how frightened I am. He flicks the knife closed and cracks me on the head with it. "Turn your fucking head, bitch!" There's that famous temper I've learned to fear. But fear is weakness, and weakness is something I can't show. He grabs hold of my hair again and snaps my head back, then brings me to a point where I'm looking eye to eye with him. "Are you afraid yet, Jeff? If you had any shred of intelligence, you would be. I'm a scary person. Things run through my head that people shouldn't think of. I could spend hours upon hours making you feel pain like you didn't know was possible to feel. Be afraid. Be smart for once. I told you I'd teach you to fear me, if you don't by now you will soon, and when you learn your place you'll back down. I promise." I shake my head hard to break his grip on my hair, then angle myself towards him like he asked, and the look on his face is utterly terrifying. He looks possessed. "Now this can go quickly," he taunts as he flicks his blade open again, "or it can go real _slow._" As he teases me he traces the left side of my face at the hairline with the knife at a torturously slow pace. I force myself to keep my eyes on him while he does it, the joy clear on his features boils fury in my chest, but I keep still so he doesn't slip and slash my face. I can feel my blood pour down in rivulets and I wince, trying my hardest not to cry out.

_Don't you see the writing on the wall? You're just a victim of your own conceit, the architect of your own defeat._

"Fuck, Hardy! When are you going to learn how things work around here? You fucking answer me, and you look at me when you do so. Or I can literally make this last all day. Do you want to try me?" I sigh, and it takes all my resolve to keep looking in his eyes.

"No, I don't."

"Good. Give me your right arm." I know questioning him would be really stupid, so I just listen. Inside I'm screaming though, after what they did to Punk's arm I'm more than a little wary of allowing him mine. He turns it so the underside is on top and makes four small tick marks in my skin. I dig my nails in my palms and stay silent, I assume it's only going to get worse from here. Sure enough, he carves a letter in between each of the marks, spelling out "RKO" on my arm in blood, my blood. I start screaming when he's about halfway and by the time he's done my voice is almost gone. He talks over me. "You are mine. My bitch. There isn't a goddamn thing you can do to stop me, so you might as well get used to it now. You should know by now that there are no lengths that I will not stoop to. I can do whatever I want with you. You're like a toy. And I plan on using you, abusing you, breaking you, and it's gonna be the most fun I've had in a long time. Get it Jeff? Using you? Bile rises in my throat at his words and the sight of my arm, completely covered in red, stinging pain mixed with deep aches abound in my forearm. I just stare at it for a minute, dumbfounded. They all laugh, Punk continues to look on in horrified silence.

"Guess this is what happens when you're not around to help your friend here, Punkers." Randy taunts. I groan loudly and bite my good arm, trying to stop the pain laced sounds that keep coming out. Punk is still speechless. "Your weak, worthless friend here owes us an apology, and we've had to beat his stubborn, southern hick ass in effort to force it out of him. We're not done yet, he still thinks he has a chance. You can watch if you want, not that you really have a choice." I try to get up again, but I can't get Hunter off of me. Randy picks up his bag of tacks again and I tense up all over. I can tell Hunter notices because he gives a snort of laughter and says something that makes my stomach turn.

"Seems like we got one of these two idiots to have a little healthy fear of The Viper," he rubs it in my face and I feel so weak. I can't stop them from doing whatever they want to me. But Punk doesn't know what's in the bag, and if he's horrified now… Randy sits cross-legged in front of me and I rake my hands through my hair, doing anything I can not to think about those tacks going in to me, which they will. I push the blood from my face again. Hunter teases Punk a little now as Randy puts his hand in the bag. "See, we've kind of been using your friend as our" *tack* "own" *tack* "personal" *tack* "pincushion." Randy yanks my bloody arm up and sticks seven tacks in the inside part of my ribs, so when he lets go the floor keeps forcing them in my skin. I do my best to stay quiet but after him attacking my ribs again I'm screaming, burying my face in my arms to try and muffle it. I know they're trying to make me scream, because it'll kill Punk to listen to that and not be able to do anything to stop it. But knowing that doesn't help me, cause I can't stop my screams when I feel like white hot knives are stuck in me, all over. When I look up again it's like I'm hit with a bullet, my best friend looks absolutely lost, like he doesn't know what to do. But I know better. He can't do anything to save me, and I think we both realize that. I try to think of something to say to him but all I get is three tacks in my back and another fucking comment from Randy. He gets down so he's eye level with me, placing himself between me and Punk, turning a tack over in his hand. "Are you ready to apologize for your little comments? Or am I going to have to beat you unconscious?" Unconscious sounds good to me right now. I find it in me to give him a reply, my voice trembling with the effort it takes not to break down.

"Till I collapse, Randy I swear to God you ain't getting an apology out of me till I collapse."

"That can be easily arranged. You're almost there anyway." Randy smirks at me. Then Punk finally finds his voice. He takes a deep breath, and his words come out choked. "You know what, you merciless chicken shit bitches? Jeff isn't going to give in, no matter how bad you beat him up. You know why? He's Jeff fucking Hardy. He jumps off ladders. He has more guts in his pinky finger than all three of you combined. And he of all people knows there's satisfaction–"

"In the struggle." I cut him off, it coming out as a grunt. That was from Daniel Bryan. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Punk, but I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you. I see him smile a little, but I noticed that Randy seemed to be counting under his breath while Punk was talking.

"55, that was 55. Oh, that's gonna hurt… Poor, poor, defenseless Jeff. These are because of you, stupid." He's talking to Punk and I freeze when I realize what he means.

_Time has come and gone for words. _

As he counts them out I get a couple words in.

"Wait, 55? Fifty fucking five? Did I hear you right? No, please no, not 55 tacks, oh God no. N-n-n-n-no he didn't know what he was doing. Oh God, oh God no." _They can't be serious, _I think, but I know they are. They have no mercy, no remorse and they will not only stick 55 tacks in me, they'll enjoy every single one. I honestly consider begging for my life because the pain is starting to outweigh the pride, but they haven't broken me yet and I'm going to prove it to them. Hunter moves back to a single-leg boston crab. There's already 19 tacks in me, and I could barely handle that. 55. I have to take 55 more tacks. Punk looks legitimately terrified, he's so pale, I just pray he understands and doesn't say anything else.

"Wait, no–" he's panicking now. I need to stop him. I use his real name, the one I only use in emergency.

"Phil you gotta stop talking man, every word you say is another ta—" I try to explain, my words are still laced with agony, but I'm cut off by Hunter laying back on me again before going back to his original position and the end of my sentence turns to a scream. Punk closes his mouth and cringes at my outburst, fearful of this whole situation. I'd love to console him but I have to prepare myself for 57 tacks now, so I have to focus on that.

"54, 55, 56, 57. Jeez Punk, how much do you hate poor, defenseless little Hardy over here? That's not really fair after all he's been through already." I scoff at that. Like anything they do is fair. "You think something is funny, Jeff?" Uh oh. It's about to start. He grabs my hair and forces my head up. "You think 57 tacks is funny, Jeff?"

_A thousand threats I've heard before. _

He pushes one slowly into the back of my shoulder. I take a deep breath and pace myself, trying not to give them that twisted joy they get from my screams."I'm gonna take this nice and slow, see if I can't break your little punk attitude."

"Wait," Paul says. Oh God, what now? "He looked away," he gestures to Punk, who is now looking back, confused.

"What the fuck does that mean?" I whisper.

"Two mo-ore," Randy sings.

"Like 57 fucking tacks wasn't enough?" I ask, damn near hysterical, my voice still hoarse.

"That's another for your little comment. You're at 60 now. Want to keep pushing it?" I say nothing. "That's what I thought." Punk looks like he's seen a ghost. "You really don't deserve it, bitch, but I'll give you one last chance. Tell me how sorry you are. Beg me not to hurt you anymore. Come on. You and I both know you're going to give me what I want sooner or later anyway. Go ahead, give me a reason not to." I growl hoarsely, scratching my fingernails against the concrete floor. It's almost humorous to imagine that Randy thinks I'm going to back down after I've gone this far. Maybe it would be if 59 more tacks weren't still coming my way.

"You just don't get it Randy." I cough hard and it goes straight to my back, it feels like any moment I'll be snapped in half like a toothpick. "Just because you make me feel pain, that doesn't mean you'll make me feel defeat."

_But words are cheap, _

"I really think that outlook is going to change, before you even know what's hit you you'll be **begging us to stop.** I guarantee it. That was your last chance. The blood's not on my hands, and I mean that **very** **literally**."

_and lies are hard to take. _

I try to talk myself off the edge of hysteria, keeping my ragged breathing slow and covering my head with my hands. I clench my jaw, getting ready as best I can for _more _pain. Randy rips my arms off of my head and lifts me up by my armpits. I cry out, I'm being bent almost in half and I know the worst is yet to come; there is no end in sight.

_Never walk away from a fight thats worth fighting. _

He keeps me that way by putting his knee under my chin. "Gee Jeff, I almost feel bad for you. Almost. But just remember, I gave you chance, after chance, after chance to prevent this. It's not on me, it's on you two." With that he sticks them in a row under my collarbone, painfully slow, 9 in total. He then spends 20 along the sides of my rib cage, two of them skimming the cigarette holes I had earned earlier. I grit my teeth and try not to scream, but after what I assume is around 25 my head is down on Randy's leg, and I'm howling straight through, my hands grasping for a hold on the concrete that doesn't exist.

_Never hesitate when you know you're gonna act._

I grab his calf and dig my nails into it, desperately trying to get his attention, silently pleading for mercy. I can't bring myself to look him in the eye as he pries them off and laughs. "That's not gonna get you anywhere, Jeffy." I've never been in this much pain. Never. Not falling off a ladder, on a ladder, through a table or any of the crazy shit I've done can hold a candle to this. I'm 30 in now and he slams my head back to the ground. Keeping up his snail's pace, he runs ten down the length of each of my arms and I'm still screaming and it hurts so bad, I'm praying I'll pass out soon but something tells me I won't be that lucky. 10 left. 10 left. He ventures back where Hunter is, and Randy must've said something to him because in a flash he's leaning all the way back again, which extracts a choked shriek out of me. I pull on my hair again as I try to fight back tears. Randy must've looked up before he started because he yells, "Open your eyes right fucking now or I'll stick the whole bag in him."

_Never waste your words on a fool you won't listen._

No, he can't do that. Please God, don't let him do that. I look up and Punk's eyes are wide as saucers, he's breathing really hard, nearing hyperventilation. I get eye contact with him briefly and mouth the words _calm down, I'll be okay_. I clench my jaw and try not to think about that entire bag of tacks going into my skin. "That's better. You've caused Jeff enough pain as is, don't you think?" He looks at me again for a split second and I whisper "_not your fault". _He mouths back "_yes it is". _I put my forehead back against the cool concrete and pray to God that this ends soon. Randy takes a full minute for each of the last 10 tacks, placing them in a cluster on my calf muscle. I hold my head in my hands and I just scream my fucking lungs out. By the time there's 6 left I am flat out begging them to stop. My voice is barely audible but it's all I can do. "Oh God, please, Randy please, please stop. Please, Randy, it's not my fault, please stop." Paul laughs at me from his spot next to Punk and I manage to endure the last 6. I cover my head with my hands, _it's over, I made it, oh sweet Jesus I made it, it's a miracle. _But it's **not** over.

_Never sell your soul cause you'll never buy it back._

A/N: To the guest who reviewed my previous chapter—your kind words mean the world to me. I'm ecstatic that there are actual people who enjoy reading what I write. It speaks volumes to me and motivates me to keep going, and for that I can't thank you enough. I hope my latest installments haven't disappointed :) Keep reading and reviewing, and I'll be cranking out chapters as quickly as possible!

Reviews?


	16. Chapter 16: We Like It Loud

Chapter 16: We Like It Loud

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG: WE LIKE IT LOUD BY SLEEPING WITH SIRENS

A/N: This is me getting sappy and emotional, so if you're not into that, feel free to skip to the actual chapter. To rollinsforever— your review made my week. I'm in love with Panic as well but sometimes I think I'm the only one. I'm working to keep chapters coming as quickly as possible. Chap 15 was supposed to be a cliffhanger, I'm glad you picked up on that. Hopefully you like the way I rounded it out. Experienced fanfic-ers such as yourself, Cinnamon Muffin Punk, and Ohh My My Ambrose telling me that my story is written well is all the proof I need to dispel the voices in my head that say "your story is weird and freaky and sick and no one likes it, and that's why you only have 2 favs and 3 followers". Panic is one of someone's favorite stories… wow. Hard to believe, it really is :) my story may only have six reviews, but for me that's six more than I ever thought I'd get. My heart starts racing every time I see an email that I have a new one, and I keep expecting to open one and have it say all the bad things my head keeps telling me. But it never does, it's always these fantastic, encouraging reviews. As a new, young, up and coming writer, I appreciate any and all comments and criticism, but to see so many positive ones is simply breathtaking. Just know that people like you make Panic possible. Your voices are always heard and I think of you guys as I push myself to get new stuff out for you. Please keep it coming, even if you have something you don't like, or would like to see changed. Your opinions are almost as important to me as my own (cause I really only wrote this to make myself happy in the first place XD) and it's always great to hear your feedback. I feel the love and I hope you continue to love my work. People like you make it all worth it.  
Now let's get back to the story, shall we?

_What's the point of ever starting this? Why even put my heart in it?_

I moan softly, Hunter is still ripping at my back and my leg with that submission. I know they're going to ask me for an apology, and I know I'll have to give one, but I'm surprised when Triple H lets go of my leg. I just lay there, flat on the floor. "Are you sufficiently collapsed yet?" Randy's still rubbing it in. I wipe the blood from my eyes so I can see. Pain is radiating through my body and I know I won't be able to get up. The three of them stand in a semicircle around me. I rake my hands through my hair slowly and grit my teeth. "You know what I want to hear." Dammit Randy. I know I have to do it. I think any more of this will kill me. They didn't break me, not yet. I hate them for all of this, the whole thing is on them. I don't have a choice. They didn't give me a choice. I groan and look at the floor.

"I'm sorry." He kicks the side of my head, almost like he's playing with me.

"Why do you make me hit you, Jeff? Look at me. How many times do I have to tell you to look at me when I talk to you?" But he's not mad like he was before. He knows he's about to get what he wants, he just wants to hurt me now. Not just physically, he's already done that. He's looking for my mind, my sanity, my strength. He wants to fuck it all up and rip it to shreds. That's what he's after right now, he wants me to hate myself for something he's done. He wants me to blame myself. I can't say that I don't.

_You see us as a waste of time, say "You give up now, you're gonna fall behind."_

He's actually really calm and it's freaking me out, I'm so used to seeing this crazy, uncontrollable fury but I feel like this is even more dangerous. I sigh and try to get up, but I fall to the ground again with a grunt. Orton laughs at me before crouching down to my level, grabbing my throat like he did before and lifting me up to the point where he could force me onto my knees. I give a little "ugh," pain shooting through my body. I start trembling as I try to hold myself upright. I'm terrified that they will keep sticking tacks in me even after they get their apology. "Try again." He says, nudging my face with his foot. I hesitate, and he kicks me this time. I shake my head, trying to see straight.

"I'm sorry."

"For?" I push down whatever dignity I have left.

"I'm sorry for insulting you." This has been going on for so long that I kind of forgot what he was mad about in the first place. Something so small, so insignificant… how could it have made him so angry? Oh wait, that's right: he's a fucking psychopath. It really hurts to talk, I'm hoping that's good enough for them.

"There you go." He says, smiling like he's proud of me. Sure, I'm real proud that I just gave up. Go Jeff! Yeah, right.

_No! I just can't stop! You talk the game, but can you walk the walk?_

"See where your pride got you? Beaten within an inch of your life, and the same result. Let this be a lesson to both of you in the future." Oh God, I had forgotten. They're still going after Punk. I look over at him and I can tell he blames himself for all of it. I want to tell him it's not his fault, but I pretty much expended all of my energy already. Randy picks me up over his shoulder and I moan as the tacks dig in my ribs. I let my head sag against his chest. I'm so completely beat, holding my head up is too hard right now. He dumps me down next to Punk where he's restrained. I see how much of my blood is on Randy's white t-shirt, and I realize just how bad things have gotten. Punk is looking at me, dumbstruck. It dawns on me that I must look like hell, I'm pouring out blood from everywhere. But I'm concerned with him right now. I fumble to get my back against the wall and then groan as the tacks dig in. I push away from it a little and then start trying to pick them out of my skin. I can't really see straight and my fingers keep shaking, so I leave them alone right now. I look back to Punk and see that he's still staring at me.

"I'm so sorry," He breathes, and I wonder if he thinks he still can't talk.

"Don't let them get in your head. You didn't—" I have a small coughing fit that sends daggers into my ribs. I groan before continuing. "do this, they did." I wipe blood from my eyes again and put my elbows on my knees, being careful of the tacks in my arms. I hold my head in my hands. I can't figure out what's worse, what happened to me or what's going to happen to him. "Are you doing okay?" God, it's fucking painful to talk. I can still feel Randy's hand around my throat.

_When ash is ashes and dust is dirt, I'm gonna be the one that's gonna make you hurt. _

"Not after seeing that happen to you. I don't know what to say. What _can_ you say to a guy who just went through what you went through? I sure as hell don't know." I cough again and whimper, shaking my head.

"Forget about me. I'll live. It's over now." I cough _again_, spitting blood out of my mouth.

"Forget about you? Yeah, right, good luck with that."

"Believe me, you need to worry about you." My voice is raspy and I don't sound at all like myself to me. I wonder how much damage they really did. Neither of us say much after that, our tormentors having a conversation to our right. I try to take a deep breath, but it feels like shards of glass in my lungs, so I settle for less painful shallow breaths.

_Sell us the world but we ain't selling out._

I do my best to take stock of my injuries. My face has stopped bleeding now, but dried blood still covers it. I feel the cut above my eye, it could probably use a couple stitches but it'll be fine. My right eye is swelling and it's hard to see out of it. I touch my nose, I don't think it's broken. I probably pulled or tore muscles in my back and my left leg. My back, my shoulders and my ribs are covered in tacks. I definitely broke at least one rib. I probably screwed something up in my throat. I have tacks along my collarbone and down my arms. Something is making me cough up blood. I have a bunch of tacks in my right leg. I'm woozy from blood loss and I'm still bleeding all over me. I probably have a concussion from all the times they banged my head against the concrete.

_Said we like it loud, yeah we want that rock and roll sound. _

Not that anyone is going to fix any of that any time soon.

_No, don't wanna hear no songs on the radio, pumping through my stereo now. _

In fact, I know it'll all be getting much worse courtesy of bastards number one, two and three over there.

_Yeah, I said we like it loud!_

As their backs are turned, I feel sick seeing my blood that was shed by Triple H and his belt on the back of his t-shirt. My blood is on everyone, everything. But I know they won't let it kill me. They don't want us to die, me or him. They just want to take from us until everything is gone, they want us to beg them to make it stop. I don't know how they plan on getting away with it once they let us go, assuming they do let us go. Maybe, and this thought makes me shudder, they think they can break us so bad that we'll be too afraid to tell anyone what happened. Knowing Paul and Hunter, I'm sure they have a master plan.

_Turn me up, don't ever turn me down, no, don't wanna hear another song on the radio pumping through my stereo, now, now, now. _

Speak of the devil, here they come, back over towards us.

_I said we like it loud. _

I hear my blood pulsing in my ears as I stave off panic. "Just remember, they won't kill you, okay?" I choke out, I'm frightened for him.

"Yeah, I know. But Jeff, after seeing that, what they did to you, what they're really capable of, I'm scared." It couldn't have been fun to be chained up, staring at his doom for what probably felt like forever. Now they're here and Paul takes what I'm sure is a key for Punk's handcuffs out of his pocket and hands it to Randy. Randy gets on a knee, just out of the reach of Punk's kicks.

"You run, you fight, next time we won't give your friend as much mercy as we just did." Punk doesn't flinch, doesn't say a word. Just like he did to me so many times, Randy grabs Punk's hair and smacks his head against the concrete wall. "Look at me! Do you understand?" See? He's a fuckin hot head. Punk winces and glares at Randy.

"Whatever you say, Randal." He gives Randy a shadow of a grin and I know from experience that Punk has made a mistake.

_Yeah, louder than this! Wanna see what happens when we get pissed?_

"You think this is funny? Your crippled, chained up ass thinks this is funny? You think this is a joke? You think what's gonna happen here is a fuckin joke?" I can tell Punk's starting to act like himself again now that I'm not in jeopardy. That may not be the smartest move, but it's good for him to let loose instead of living in fear of these lunatics.

"Yeah, kind of." He laughs a little. I give a small smile, which I guess was a mistake too.

_See a whole revolution of these fucked up kids, and all it takes is one so it starts like this…_

"You think this is funny too, Hardy? I didn't fuck you up bad enough to keep you quiet?"

"Guess not," Punk taunts, I can tell he's trying to keep their attention off of me. I'm thankful, because I can't find the strength to respond, let alone try to fight with Randy. "Hey, Randal, 'member when Jericho told you your face looks like it got smashed in with a frying pan?" Randy growls in response. _What're you doing, Punk? _"He's wrong. It's not nearly that attractive. More like went through a meat grinder."

_No! You've gone way too far, we won't give up and let it fall apart._

"Thank you for your irrelevant opinion."

"You're very welcome. Go ahead, get me out of these, let's get this over with."

"That's what you'd like, isn't it?" Now Randy is smiling. That unsettles me. Nothing good ever comes of that sick smirk. He gets on his knees, straddling Punk's legs so he can't kick him. He takes hold of each of Punk's arms, right above the wrist. He pulls up sharply on the right one first and Punk doesn't supply a reaction. Randy smiles again, wider this time. "So it's the left one then, is it?" Uh oh. He knew Punk had a broken arm, probably because of his immediate reaction to pulling on the handcuffs when he woke up. He didn't know what arm, until now. I watch, my breath coming hard and fast, those now familiar glass shards digging in again. Punk looks up at Randy with a shred of fear that wasn't there before. Randy pulls hard on his left arm and forces a shriek out of Punk. I've known him a long time, but I've never heard him make a sound like that. Randy is laughing now and Hunter and Heyman are chuckling behind him too. He rips at Punk's arm again, and Punk screams through his teeth.

_When ash is ashes and dust is dirt, we're gonna be the ones that's gonna make you hurt. _

When Randy lets go, Punk's right back on him, talking through clenched teeth.

_Sell us the world but we ain't selling out!_

"Some tough guy you are. Why don't I tie him up and _then_ beat the shit out of him, cause ya know, if he fights back he might stand a chance and we can't have that. You guys are pathetic. Me and Jeff are more man than any of you will ever be, cause not fucking _one_ of you would've lasted even close to as long as we have. So I don't know why you guys do this, but just remember that although you mock our pride, that's what has got us this far. So fuck you Randal, and fuck your friends too."

_Said we like it loud, yeah we want that rock and roll sound._

"You're so goddamn stupid." Randy kneels next to him, unlocking his handcuffs and ignoring the kicks and the knees that Punk lands on him. As soon as Punk is freed, Randy wraps an arm around his neck and smiles as Punk tears at it, trying to breathe. Randy can hold all his weight so he can't drop down out of it. He sounds like he's choking.

_No, don't wanna hear no songs on the radio, pumping through my stereo now._

I know I'm stupid for doing this, but I pick myself up and limp over, pain coursing through my body. I take a tack out of my collarbone and stick it in Randy's back. Randy lets go of Punk and as he falls to the ground Randy turns to me, slowly, menacingly. "Sit your ass down now or I'll do it for you." He threatens me. I grab a tack out of my ribs that he doesn't see. I hold my arms out straight beside me like a T, the tack flat side out in between my fingers.

_Yeah, I said we like it loud!_

"Try me." He stalks me and I back up a step, then another and another until my back is against the wall and I gasp in pain as my back and all of the tacks in it hit the wall. Randy closes in and I stick the tack in his cheek. He yelps in surprise and I dodge past him to see that Punk is being restrained by Hunter, his arms behind his back. I know I don't have much time or mobility, but I can still think as fast as usual. I kick Paul in the stomach as hard as I can, I don't know how much force there was but enough to immobilize him for a second. Then I stand in front of Hunter and make eye contact with Punk, and almost as if we had some kind of mental connection, he kicks Hunter in the balls. Hunter lets go but I hear Randy's footsteps so I grab his good arm and direct him towards the stairs. He's faster than I am cause I can barely walk at this point. He's almost there when Randy wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me up. I start thrashing and kicking and swearing at him, but he won't let go. Then Punk turns his head and back pedals until he's against the wall, just steps away from the stairs, freedom. I want to tell him to run, to get away from this hell, to forget about me. But I know he won't listen, and Hunter hollers at him before I have the chance anyway.

"Go ahead. Run. Get out of here. You'll never be able to live with yourself knowing what we'll do to him because of you."

_Turn me up, don't ever turn me down, no, don't wanna hear another song on the radio pumping through my stereo, now, now, now._

Damn, he's right, Punk knows it. He drops to his knees and allows Hunter to cuff his hands behind his back.

_I said we like it loud. _

I'm still trying to get out of Randy's arms, and he must be getting pissed cause suddenly his grip gets a whole lot tighter and I grunt, unable to draw breath in my lungs and my battered ribs with the tacks still in them not making things comfortable in the least.

_We like it loud!_

Hunter grabs his hair again and forces him up to his feet. He then pulls him by his broken arm back towards the bathtub. I'm elbowing Randy in the face now and he curses, throwing me to the floor.

_Yeah we like it loud!_

I try to get up but by now I'm physically unable to. He drags me by my hair to where Punk is. I try to get it out of his grasp, but I can't and he grabs my arm, making sure to press the tacks in with his thumb. He dumps me where Punk and I were before. He starts attaching the cuffs that held Punk previously to my wrists.

_We like it loud!_

I fight feebly but he lets out a growl and manages to restrain me. Then he gets up, scowling, and drops a small clump of blue hair, my hair, at my feet. I feel bile rise up in my throat and I glare at him. But I'm worried about Punk, like it seems I always am. I know they're going to keep our little escape attempt in mind while they do what they want to him.

_I said we like it loud!_

Reviews?


	17. Chapter 17: Burn In My Light

Chapter 17: Burn In My Light

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG: BURN IN MY LIGHT BY MERCY DRIVE

_A nebula rising above from the black of deceiving lies._

Paul is getting up now, fuming I can tell.

"Your little piss-ass is going to pay for that." Of course, Randy, of course you're gonna rub salt in the wound like you always do. That's one of the many reasons why l love you. Except not really. He picks the tack out of his cheek wipes blood from his face that I know I shed, between my elbow strikes and the tack. I smile but keep it to myself with my head down so Randy doesn't see. I don't dare say something about it though, not when Punk is in a compromising position to the point where anything could set them off.

_A new star is born, now he brings you to light with his hands untied._

Hunter steps a foot in the back of his knee joint, forcing him down. Punk is on his knees now, staring at the bathtub. He looks frozen, I wish there was something I could do, but I can't bear the pain that accompanies talking right now.

_They tried so hard to follow, but no one can._

"What's wrong, smartass? All it takes is the threat of a little cold water to shut your huge fucking mouth? If I would've known it was that easy, I'd've drowned your ass a long time ago." I can see Punk force down fear and try to keep his composure.

"Just do it."

_Inside you're all so hollow, you understand._

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Randy smiles and so does Hunter, they each grab one of his shoulders and drag him up to the edge of the bathtub, keeping him on his knees and making sure I can see him.

_Hey, nothing you can say, nothing's gonna change what you've done to me. Now it's time to shine, I'm gonna take what's mine, while you're burning inside my light. _

They each put a hand on the back of his head and he squints his eyes shut tighter. They look at each other and smile, then force Punk's head under the water.

_I gave and you take and I waited for you but I made a mistake._

I see his cuffed hands move up and down his back and his head thrash under the water, but he's not strong enough to get them off of him. I pull at my restraints and my mouth stays wide open.

_It's clear that your fear is so near, because I see the look on your face. _

I can do absolutely nothing. I am one hundred percent totally helpless. They're going to drown my best friend right in front of me.

_You tried to hold me under, I held my breath. _

I figure they're going to hold him there until he accepts that he's going to die and then they'll pull him up again. _What if they don't pull him up at all?_ I wonder what that feels like, I'm honestly terrified for him.

_Alone and now you wonder what I possess._

••••

This isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Isn't good either, but better. I've only had one bad nightmare since I've started this, which is already a huge improvement. I'll give it up to Nic, he was right. Kwynn knows what she's doing. But as I'm in good hands, as I'm in a safe place, I'm reminded of that time when things were so much darker.

The water is so fucking cold, it numbs my face within a few seconds.

_Hey,_

I try to hold my breath as long as possible and remember what Jeff said.

_nothing you can say, _

They won't kill me.

_nothing gonna change what you've done to me._

But that thought flies out the goddamn window when it starts feeling like there's a boulder laying in my chest cavity. I keep my eyes squeezed shut and I try not to breathe the water in.

_Now it's time to shine,_

I know that would be the beginning of the end. But I'm certain that I'm fucked when I start trying to move my hands that are still attached to each other, knowing that won't help me but absolutely panicking. My legs kick out and now I'm desperately trying to get some air.

_I'm gonna take what's mine,_

But the hands on my head push me down farther and I need to breathe and I can't breathe and I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die in this godforsaken hellhole and nobody's gonna know besides the fuckers killing me and Jeff; Jeff, what're they going to do to Jeff when I'm not here to try and stop them and oh God I'm gonna die. I breathe water in and I cough and I draw more of it into my lungs and I'm trying as hard as I ever had to breathe and I'm getting lightheaded and I open my eyes and the water burns and I'm frantic and I feel myself slipping away and I try to fight it and stay conscious but my vision is darkening at the edges and I inhale more water and now I can't feel my limbs and then everything goes black and I feel nothing.

_while you're burning inside my light._

A/N: In case this song strikes you as familiar but you can't figure out how, it's Randal's old entrance theme.

A/N: Thank you all again for the kind words. They mean so much to me!

Reviews?


	18. Chapter 18: One Step Closer

Chapter 18: One Step Closer

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG TITLE

_I cannot take this anymore,_

••••

I have to do this again, don't I?

That dork owes me one.

Blah blah this will help you, Jeff blah blah psychology blah blah something about therapy blah. Where was I… not in a pleasant place, I can assure you that. Haven't lost it all, though. Buckle your seatbelts, my friends. Things don't get much easier from here.

_saying everything I've said before. _

He stops moving and suddenly I'm yelling at them. "LET HIM FUCKING GO! HE IS GOING TO DIE! YOU ARE GOING TO KILL HIM! LET HIM BREATHE FOR GOD'S SAKE! PLEASE HE'S GONNA DROWN YOU GOTTA LET HIM UP!" Paul grins his sick, perverse little grin and motions to Hunter and Randy, who are eating this all up, to bring Punk back to the surface. They each grab one of his shoulders, pulling his limp body straight out of the water and throwing him to the concrete. He's not breathing, oh God he's not breathing and my throat is raw and each breath is a struggle for me but they need to make sure he starts breathing. So I whisper fiercely at them, it coming out almost as a hiss. "**Do** **something**!" Paul stares at me patronizingly.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, Jeff, he's not going to die. Where's the fun in that?" I feel anger rising in my chest and I try to swallow it for Punk's sake. But he's still not breathing.

_All these words, they make no sense. _

"Please," I moan. I then descend into a coughing fit that leaves me doubled over with my knees pulled up to my chest. I really need to stop yelling.

_I find bliss in ignorance. _

"I guess for Jeff, since he's having an aneurism over there, Randy, make sure the little shit breathes." Paul tells Randy, and he puts his foot on Punk's chest and full force kicks him, the same way he had after they knocked Punk out with the chloroform, and keeps going until he starts coughing water up. His eyes blink open and I breathe a small sigh of relief. He looks from Randy to the bathtub to Hunter and Paul, then to me. He seems fucking terrified and I would be too if I were in his position. He starts backing himself away as best he can while still on the ground in handcuffs. Randy scoffs and closes the distance between them quickly, getting behind him and stepping on his fingers. Punk grimaces and looks straight up at Randy with a sliver of fear that hadn't been present before. He spits more water out of his mouth to the side and gives the two in front of me a quizzical look.

"What now?" He challenges, his voice strangled by the water.

_Less I hear the less you'll say, you'll find that out anyway. _

He shakes his head and some of the water flies out of his hair. He's trying to hide it, but I can read him like a book, they've shaken him up.

_Just like before..._

I decide talking is worth the agony paired with it at this point.

"Stay. The fuck. Away. From him." They all turn to me and seem shell shocked that I'm still able to speak. Punk gives me a pleading look but I ignore him. I have to do this.

_Everything you say to me takes me one step closer to the edge, and I'm about to break._

Randy walks over to where I'm restrained, slowly. Of course it's Randy. Of course. He squats down and runs his hand slowly along my rib cage, one of the many places where his tacks are, and I flinch away from his touch.

"Jeff," he says like he's disappointed, "when are you going to learn to just stay down?"

_I need a little room to breathe, cause I'm one step closer to the edge, I'm about to break._

I groan angrily as he yanks my hair back, unwillingly bearing my vulnerable throat to my dangerous adversary. He wraps his fingers around the back of my neck and pushes his thumb into my windpipe. I try to thrash away but he presses harder and I start gasping for breath. He smiles as he closes his hand around my throat. I rattle the cuffs behind me and squirm around to try and loosen his grip. Eventually he lets go, as my vision darkens at the edges. But I won't be deterred by Randy's scare tactics. I cough hard and do my best to fight through.

_I find the answers aren't so clear,_

"You realize people like you are locked inside padded rooms in straight jackets, right? There's something _wrong _with you, Randy. You're unstable, you're a lunatic! I mea—" I'm stopped short by Randy pressing his hand in the area where my broken rib is.

_wish I could find a way to disappear._

A small yelp crescendos into a loud scream as he presses harder while he unlocks me with a key I never saw him receive. As he gets up, I twist my wrists behind me. I think the cuffs are off.

"Get up!" He demands as he kicks me in the face. I lean heavily against the wall as I make an attempt to stand.

_All these thoughts they make no sense, I find bliss in ignorance._

I fall a little every time he lands a kick on me, and it's probably close to 20 blows before I can get to a somewhat upright position. When I do, I start getting a few words out between each blow. "You," *kick* "pathetic," *kick* "piece," *kick* "of shit," *kick* "get," *kick* "the hell," *kick* "away," *kick* "from me." *kick,* "I," *kick* "know," *kick* "what," *kick* "it is." *kick* "Both of us," *kick* "have an actual," *kick* "connection with the fans." *kick* "That's," *kick* "something you can't," *kick* "buy with all your money," *kick* "and Hunter," *kick* "can't hand it to you," *kick* "like he does with everything else."

_Nothing seems to go away, over and over again._

Then he starts kicking me at least 3x faster than before. I fall to the ground again and try to cover up. Unfortunately, I'm so beat up that no matter where he hits me, it still hurts like hell. He catches me square in my broken rib and I scream high, wrapping my arms around myself.

_Just like before..._

I look up at him pitifully, begging him with my eyes to leave me alone. My breath becomes shuddering as every time I move I get stabbed with sudden, unbearable pain.

_Everything you say to me takes me one step closer to the edge, and I'm about to break._

Still, Orton, like a shark smelling blood, senses my weakness and drives his foot in the same place, the tacks around it being driven even further into my skin. My ears start ringing and everything sounds like it's underwater.

_I need a little room to breathe, cause I'm one step closer to the edge, I'm about to break._

Every strike is followed by a scream, my comprehensive thoughts swallowed up by terror. It gets harder and harder to breathe as _at least_ two more of my ribs break. He stops to push his foot into them, putting more and more weight on it as time passes.

"Randy," I wheeze, "please," he growls and pushes his foot harder into me. I try to grasp at his leg to get his attention. "Ran—" I'm cut off once again by his dark, angry voice.

"No, Jeff. Remember? I'm a lunatic! I'm unstable! There's something wrong with me!" He screams my words at me at the top of his lungs. "I don't have a conscience. It doesn't bother me that I'm breaking your bones. I like it." Then he slows down and pushes his foot into my ribs once more. "Do you understand why I'm doing this to you, Jeff?" I cough hard and it jarrs my ribs.

"No, I don't, you sick bastard."

"Maybe I can explain it to you then." He starts on the other side of my rib cage, kicking even harder and something wrong happens. He must've shattered something important because it feels like broken glass is inside of me and trying to force its way out. So this is his idea of an explanation. I turn my head to the side and let my hair fall over my face, hoping desperately that they don't see the silent tears that stream down my cheeks. I try again to protect myself with my arms but he kicks at them until I have no other choice but to let go. I faintly hear yelling that doesn't come from me, or Punk. I think it's Hunter, but why would Hunter yell at Randy? He seems to be in a zone that I haven't seen before. He doesn't even hear the screaming. But I know he hears mine. The kicks subside for a split second as Randy drops down to the floor. He pushes my shoulders down to the concrete and kneels on me, then binds my wrists to the wall again. "To think, I put an end to the almighty Jeff Hardy." He says reverently. "What would your precious little fans think of your pathetic, broken ass now?" He hisses in my face.

_Shut up when I'm talking to you!_

I struggle feebly but the truth is, he can say whatever the fuck he wants about me, and there's nothing I can do. I'm sprawled out on the floor, and my lack of strength combined with the broken ribs prevents me from pushing myself back up. He gets up and lightly positions his foot on my abdomen again. He smiles down at me but it's filled with malice and I try as hard as I can not to sob hard enough for it to be noticeable. His lips part and I wince, nothing good ever comes of him talking to me. "You know what? I like it when you beg. I want you to beg for me. I see that you're crying, Jeff. I can tell that you didn't realize I'm capable of this. You didn't think I'd stoop to this level, did you? You want me to leave you alone _so badly_, I can see it in those pretty green eyes. So maybe I'll show you some mercy, which I don't usually have, if you beg for it. Or maybe I won't."

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

I clench my fists and take fervent, sharp breaths, feebly pushing against the floor with the soles of my shoes. My eyes dart around the room, looking for a way to save myself. "No? Would you rather I get the tacks again?"

_Shut up when I'm talking to you!_

I cough violently as he starts pushing his foot into me again. Unimaginable pain courses through my body and I start to tremble. I pull hopelessly at the handcuffs above my head. It stopped being about pride a long time ago. I physically can't talk loud enough for him to hear me.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!_

The foggy yelling is getting louder, I think. I muster up all my strength and get out a couple words, as loud as I can make them.

"Please stop, Randy. Please."

"You'll have to do better than that, Jeff." He laughs again and it chills me to my bones. I feel the floor lurch under me, everything is in slow motion, and then I vaguely see someone forcibly pulling Randy off of me before I black out.

_I'm about to BREAK._

A/N: Rollinsforever—I could_ never _kill Punk lol I love him way too much! No one dies in my stories, I can't do it, it's too sad.

Reviews?


	19. Chapter 19: Nightmare

Chapter 19: Nightmare

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

SONG: NIGHTMARE BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

_Now your nightmare comes to life!_

"Stop! Stop! Oh my god, please stop!" I scream in hysterics as Hunter tears Randal away from Jeff. I just watch on my knees next to Paul, who had a hard grip on my hair when this began, but is barely holding on to it now.

_Dragged ya down below, down to the devil's show, to be his guest forever. Peace of mind is less than never!_

I'm too shocked to do anything else but scream at him. Randal stops his fighting cold and stares hard at me, as if for the first time. Like he couldn't believe his ears.

"Why the fuck should I?"

_Hate to twist your mind, but God ain't on your side._

For a second I'm so stunned that he answered me that I just stare blankly back at him. Then I find my voice.

"Don't you think you've done enough?"

"What's your definition of 'enough', bitch?"

"Don't touch him."

"Give me a reason not to." Hunter smacks him upside the head.

"ENOUGH." Randal turns murderous eyes on him.

"Fuck off."

_Flesh is burning, you can smell it in the air, cause men like you have such an easy soul to steal._

"What're you, seven years old? Grow the fuck up and get over yourself, Randy. Fucking wake up!" He points to Jeff's lifeless body. "It's **over** with him. **It's over.**"

_Nothing stops the madness turning, haunting, yearning pull the trigger!_

I have no idea the kind of damage Randal might've done. How many of Jeff's ribs he broke, or cracked, or bruised, or shattered. All I know is how much pain Randal put him through, because I could see it in his eyes, in his reactions. Jeff gets hurt for a living. He's one of the toughest people I've ever met, right alongside Dean Ambrose. He gets knocked down and gets right back up. So for him to be that crushed, that shattered, that terrified, to see him begging for it to end, crying… he would have to have been in a ridiculous amount of pain. Randal really went off the deep end. It was like he didn't even hear Hunter when he was yelling at the top of his lungs for him to stop.

_You should have known the price of evil, and it hurts to know that you belong here, yeah._

I'm not sure exactly why, but I figure it's got something to do with physical evidence when we leave here or that damaging Jeff too badly could lead to them not being able to do what they want to do to him. Or that he wouldn't put up a fight. They kind of seem to enjoy when we put up a fight.

_It's your fucking nightmare! While your nightmare comes to life._

I don't know. I would rather not try and get into their twisted heads. Randal is still fighting like mad against Hunter to get to Jeff, who has passed out from the pain and lays crumpled at the base of the wall.

_Can't wake up in sweat, cause it ain't over yet._

Hunter throws Randy against a wall and holds his shoulders to it.

"RANDY! Calm the fuck down! HEY! CALM DOWN! Too fucking far, Randy! Too far! What happens when you kill him, huh? What happens when you lose what little self-control you do have, and you kill him? What happens then? I don't stop you, right here, I don't pull you off him, I give it two more minutes of that shit and he's dead. Punctured lung, internal bleeding, isn't like I could bring a doctor here. But you never fucking think, do you? So you're going to get the fuck out of my sight before you ruin my whole plan. Do I make myself clear?!" Hunter screams in Randal's face.

_Still dancing with your demons, victim of your own creation._

He looks stunned at first and then as if he's about to protest Hunter's orders. Then, visibly struggling to remain calm, he nods reluctantly and heads for the stairs. Then Hunter turns to me and my heart jumps to my throat because he's really, really pissed.

_Beyond the will to fight, where all that's wrong is right. Where hate don't need a reason, loathing self-assassination!_

Not at me, but that doesn't matter. It's never mattered. "You. Come over here." He barks at me. Paul starts to pull me up by my elbow, but I shake him off harshly and give him a glare. He nods in Hunter's direction and I make a face before getting to my feet and walking towards Hunter.

_You've been lied to just to rape you of your sight, and now they have the nerve to tell you how to feel. _

I'm never really this cooperative, but the whole Jeff thing has freaked me out and I don't want them fucking with him anymore.

_So sedated as they medicate your brain, and while you slowly go insane they tell you, "Given with the best intentions, help you with your complications"!_

He points close to Jeff. "Sit." So I do. I take a seat Indian style, slowly and clumsily pushing myself towards the wall, because I can't use my arms.

_You should have known the price of evil. And it hurts to know that you belong here, yeah._

I suck in breath through my teeth as my fucked up back and my fucked up arm hit simultaneously.

_No one to call, everybody to fear. Your tragic fate is looking so clear!_

He smirks. "Problem?" I glower at him.

"No, I'm fucking fabulous."

_It's your fucking nightmare!_

I lean carefully against the concrete behind me and stare at Jeff. Just stare at him. I drift off into my own little world consumed by worry and dread. It takes me a while to realize Hunter is standing in front of me. I look up expectantly at him, figuring he's going to do to me what Randal did to Jeff, but that's not at all what he does.

_Fight! Not to fail! Not to fall! Or you'll end up like the others!_

He pulls out a single manacle attached to the adjacent wall by a length of chain and wraps it around my ankle.

_Die, die again! Drenched in sin! With no respect for another!_

Then he unlocks my wrists, and as he does it he whispers in my ear. "Just fucking stay where you are, okay? You got lucky, I'm giving you a free pass… for now. Enjoy it while it lasts, and don't make me regret it ."

_Down! Feel the fire! Feel the hate! Your pain is what we desire._

He backs up and throws a bag with two sandwiches in it towards me.

_Lost! Hit the wall! Watch you crawl! Such a replaceable liar._

I pick it up and give him a questioning look. "I don't want you starving to death. That's not the plan. Get some sleep or something. I have some shit to take care of."

_And I know you hear their voices,_

I'm a little taken aback but I figure I should do what he says and relish the fact that they're leaving us alone for a while.

_calling from above._

It's the first time things have slowed down in I-can't-remember-how-long and I realize I'm fucking starving.

_And I know they may seem real,_

I scarf down one of the sandwiches hungrily and completely ignore the fact that I hate peanut butter.

_these signals of love._

If I remember correctly, it's supposed to give you energy or something anyway.

_But our life's made up of choices,_

I glance at my friend as I seal the bag back up, saving the other sandwich for him when he wakes up.

_some without appeal._

The same horrific thought runs through my mind over and over again.

_They took for granted your soul, and it's ours now to steal._

Their singular focus is me now. Who is Hunter going to bring in next? What shit does he have to take care of? My head is pounding and I'm exhausted from this hellish day.

_You should have known the price of evil. _

I scoot a little farther away from Jeff and position myself as comfortably as I can, laying out on my stomach.

_And it hurts to know that you belong here, yeah._

A chill rushes through me as my bare skin hits the freezing floor.

_No one to call, everybody to fear._

I lay my head on my good arm and put the sandwich bag between me and the wall in case someone tries to come take it.

_Your tragic fate is looking so clear!_

I softly place my bad arm on his abdomen to assure myself that he's still breathing. Thankfully, I'm able to allow myself some rest and a small break from the torture, and it's not long before I'm out like a light.

_It's your fucking nightmare!_

Reviews?


	20. Chapter 20: If Today Was Your Last Day

Chapter 20: If Today Was Your Last Day  
Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).  
SONG: IF TODAY WAS YOUR LAST DAY BY NICKELBACK

_My best friend gave me the best advice, he said each day's a gift and not a given right._

I wake up with a sense of hopelessness that sits heavy in my chest, slowly suffocating me. Ugh, suffocating, the word makes my stomach backflip. I don't think they're bringing Randal back any time soon after what he did to Jeff yesterday, so that's a plus… I think. I don't want to jinx it, but I can't think of anyone worse than Randal to come here. Still, anytime I look at Jeff, all sprawled out and bloody, short, staccato breathing, tacks all over him and still chained to the wall, I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of inescapable dread. Because Jeff still isn't broken and neither am I, but things are going to get increasingly worse as long as we keep holding out.

_Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind, and try to take the path less traveled by._

I don't know how anyone is going to find us, but that thought is the only thing keeping me going. They've pummeled Jeff into the ground though, he's in far worse shape than I am. Being recalcitrant has its disadvantages. I push myself to my knees with my good arm and extend my leg out behind me so I can reach farther. I shake him awake gently. "Come on Jeff, I need you awake so I won't scare you." I tell him.

_That first step you take is the longest stride._

His head lolls to the side and he takes a shuddering breath, wincing immediately.

"Mmm?" He mumbles, I know speaking is painful for him, but he needs to know what I'm gonna do before I do it.

"You don't need to talk, I know it hurts, but I'm going to try to get some of these out of you. It's going to hurt but I need you to stay still. You'll feel much better once these shitty tacks are gone." His eyelids fly open and it's apparent that he hadn't immediately realized what recently happened. I can see it all set in with him and he moans softly.

_If today was your last day, and tomorrow was too late, could you say goodbye to yesterday?_

"Shit. I cried, didn't I?" I falter. "**Didn't I?**" Dumbfounded, I sit in silence for another moment. "I begged him too, I know I did. And earlier, I apologized. I gave in to him, didn't I?" I look to the ground.

"Jeff, none of that ma—"

_Would you live each moment like your last? _

"_**Didn't I?!**_"

_Leave old pictures in the past?_

"Yes." He closes his eyes.

_Donate every dime you have?_

"I'm screwed."

_If today was your last day?_

"No you're not."

_Against the grain should be a way of life. _

"I left myself open for them."

_What's worth the prize is always worth the fight._

"It doesn't matter. Randal does that to people. He's trying to make you blame yourself. Make you feel ashamed of something you had no control over."

"I didn't _have_ to break down like that. The only thing I _have_ to do is stay here so I can be Randy's little painslut, and I'm so sick and tired of it."

"Randal isn't coming back."

"Then someone else'll come do it."

"You want to tell me you had another option?"

"I was pathetic. I gave him everything he wanted from me."

_Every second counts cause there's no second try, so live like you'll never live it twice._

"You're being unreasonable."

"Unreasonable? I'm being _**unreasonable**_?! Tell me for one second that he didn't want me passing out from pain he caused! That he didn't want me to cry or beg him to stop! Tell me his goal wasn't to break down my resolve! Tell me that I didn't give myself up to him! Tell me I couldn't have fought harder, held on longer, been more stubborn! Tell me that when he was done with me I wasn't beaten down, busted up and broken!" His shoulders raise up off the ground as he screams at me, until the yelling catches up to him and he starts coughing, then breathing hard through his teeth thanks to his ribs. I'm a little taken aback. I knew Randal screwed with him, I had no idea he messed Jeff up this bad. I won't admit it to him, but he's right. This is exactly what Randal wanted.

_Don't take the free ride in your own life._

"You're not broken."

_If today was your last day, _

"I was in that moment."

_and tomorrow was too late, _

"It's not your fault."

_could you say goodbye to yesterday? _

"I was weak. He preys on weakness."

_Would you live each moment like your last?_

"No, he preys on helplessness. You were helpless, you couldn't stop him."

_Leave old pictures in the past?_

"He likes that. He likes hurting people. But even more so, he _loves_ scaring people."

_Donate every dime you have?_

"Remember Hunter's little rant the last time Brock was down here? That's Randal. He enjoys your screams, he really enjoys making you beg, feel powerless and having you completely at his mercy. Those are all things you can't control. That's their whole game plan. Put us in a situation where we have no power to stop anything they do to us. Then make us blame ourselves for all of it. They want to fuck us up mentally and physically."

_If today was your last day?_

"I hate to break it to you, but they already have. Until someone comes to rescue us, they're going to keep doing it. So we don't have control over what happens to us down here. We have some control over our mental stability and our will to survive and push on."

_Would you call old friends you never see?_

"The only giving up you did is right now. You're playing right into his hands by letting this freak you out."

_Reminisce old memories?_

"Stop blaming yourself. That's what they want. Don't let them turn it around on you. They're the sick bastards doing it. Not you."

_Would you forgive your enemies?_

He pulls feebly at the handcuffs over his head and winces. "We don't deserve this. No one does. We didn't do anything. But that doesn't matter. Someone **will** find us."

_If today was your last day?_

I can see him try to push it from his mind.

"You're right."

"Of course I am." He laughs a little. "I'm gonna help you up, okay?"

"Wait."

"What?"

"It's going to hurt. Like, a lot."

"I know. But trust me, in the condition you're in, with how fucked up your ribs are, you do not want to be in this position when they come back." He looks up at me sadly.

"Okay."

_You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars, regardless of who you are. _

"It'll be alright. Just work with me, here." I gingerly place my good arm under his armpit and my bad one at the joint of his knee. "I need you to bring your arms behind your back as we go. One, two, three," then I push his knees toward the wall and pull him up to a somewhat sitting position.

_So do whatever it takes, cause you can't rewind a moment in this life. _

I grunt with the effort, it kills my arm but I work through it because I don't have a choice. But he screams hard, as his voice cracks he doubles over and I can only imagine what it's doing to him. I do my best to comfort him but in this situation hope is a pipe dream. "Shh, it's okay, it's almost over, you'll be alright, I'm here. They can't get to you right now." I get on a knee and reach over to grab his other armpit and lift him so he's sitting vertical. A couple inches from the wall, he brings his knees to his chest and tucks his head behind them. He mumbles to me,

"I'm so sick of hurting, Phil."

"I know, Jeff. I don't know what to do. All I know is we have to keep holding on. I know Randal pushed you to the limit. Too far, even in Hunter's fucked up mind. But you're stronger than them, and I don't think Randal is coming back anytime soon. There's something wrong with him, I don't know why he decided to make you his only target, unfortunately he did. But it's over. I have a feeling they're going to leave you alone for a while."

_Let nothin' stand in your way, cause the hands of time are never on your side. _

"That means they're going after you." _They sure are._ I cough up some lingering water and shake my head.

_If today was your last day,_

"Randal damn near killed you, Jeff. Let me take the hit this time."

_And tomorrow was too late,_

He lifts his head and gives a small grin.

_Could you say goodbye to yesterday?_

"Do you honestly always call him Randal?"

_Would you live each moment like your last?_

"Force of habit, I guess. I think it bothers him."

_Leave old pictures in the past?_

"Good."

_Donate every dime you have?_

"Give yourself a break and keep quiet for a while. Don't push it. I know talking hurts you. I'm gonna get Randal's tacks outta you." He makes a face.

_Would you call old friends you never see?_

"Okay."

_Reminisce old memories?_

"Are you ready?"

_Would you forgive your enemies?_

"As ready as I'll ever be."

_If today was your last day?_

Reviews?


	21. Chapter 21: Invictus

Chapter 21: Invictus

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (in later chapters).

A/N: I usually use song lyrics for my writing. I was gonna use The Catalyst by Linkin Park, but as I started to work the words in, it was too repetitive and it just didn't flow. I love the song, but it didn't work. So instead, I'm using my favorite poem. Hopefully you like it. Enjoy!

POEM: INVICTUS BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY

_OUT of the night that covers me,_

I cradle my injured arm in my lap and start on one of his, doing my best to pick them out with my right arm, which isn't my dominant one so I'm sort of handicapped. I'm trying really hard not to hurt him. God knows he's been hurt enough. The problem is, the head of the tack is flat and goes almost flush with his skin, so I have to get my nails under it to get them out. I find out quickly this won't work the way I want it to after I make him whimper for the fifth time trying to get one out. Which means I'm going to have to put myself through some pain to alleviate Jeff's. I get up on my knees and hold my left arm with my right. I place my arm on top of his and get to work with my fingers. I can do it now but I can tell Jeff is in pain. He keeps squirming and biting his lip. I feel like an asshole, putting him through the wringer like this, but at the same time I know this will make him feel better. It's a necessary evil. I make a pile of them, planning to keep some in my pocket to use as a weapon. I don't know how that'll work, but it's worth a shot. I get a glimpse of the deep cuts courtesy of Randal's pocket knife on the inside of his arm. It makes me absolutely sick that Randal took it upon himself to carve his initials into Jeff's skin. Like branding him or some shit. I get why Jeff feels so emasculated. Randal staked his claim on Jeff's body. Fuck.

_Black as the Pit from pole to pole,_

I get the ten out of his right arm, having to clumsily hold my arm up in order to keep the other steady, but I don't expect him to help or do much of anything right now, he needs to take it easy. Randal really did a number on him, I'm worried about his state of mind. He was constantly tormented, the object of Randal's aggression the entire time he was down here. He wouldn't stop. It was worse than Lesnar, much worse, because Randal fucked with his head relentlessly. He seems okay on the surface, but I think he's hiding his pain from me. I lean over him to access his left arm and work the tacks out of that arm too, 20 in my pile now. "Do you know how many there are?" I don't really want to hear the answer, but I need to know it.

"79, minus the two I used on Randy. And you have 20 out. So 57 left." Woah. I didn't realize there were that many. I try to ignore the little voices in my head telling me it's all my fault, and focus on the matter at hand. Regardless of whose fault it is, Jeff needs me.

_I thank whatever gods may be_

"Put your knees down a little." So he does, and I get a good look at how bad they fucked him up. Tacks along his collarbone (I count 8), in his ribs (I count 27), his entire midsection black and blue. God only knows how much internal damage. I need to know how many so I can make sure I've gotten them all. I take off my shoes and use my socks to clean up the blood. As gently as possible, I pry the 8 out of his collarbone and add them to my pile. I hold one of my socks to the pinprick wounds that bleed more than they should. I know that's due to the tacks being abnormally long, they drilled down into his skin and stayed there, because that's what Hunter, Paul and especially Randal wanted. And they get whatever they want down here. Jeff grits his teeth as I go about it, and I glance guiltily at him every so often. I'm trying to make it better, the last thing I want to do is hurt him further, but he's hurting nonetheless and it's by my hand. I stop when I'm finished with his collarbone and sit back on my knees, looking at him concernedly. He glances at me, then sighs.

"Keep going, I'm fine." He whispers hoarsely.

_For my unconquerable soul._

"Let me wait until the bleeding stops." He coughs violently and bows his head, straining his shoulders and getting nowhere with it. I pull my shoes back on as my bare feet are starting to freeze already.

"It's going to come back when you start again. Please, just get it over with."

"Alright." I feel like shit doing this to him. "Open up a little." He leans his shoulders back to the wall and extends his legs out in front of him, carefully avoiding his various injuries.

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

Vivid memories of how hard Randal kicked him, and the screaming and begging make me afraid to touch his ribs. He must sense it because he whispers to me under his breath, squinting his eyes shut in anticipation of the pain.

"It's fine. Go ahead." I think Jeff is too tough, or too brave, or too proud for his own good.

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

But I'll do it if he thinks he can handle it. I hold my left arm steady with my right and start with the side closer to me. I feel a little sick at the cigarette hole burned there, that stupid little voice in the back of my head running its mouth again, telling me that happened because I egged them on. I take a deep breath that catches a little in my chest. Lately I've forgotten about all the people who've beat the shit out of _me _over the past couple of days.

_Under the bludgeonings of chance_

One by one I start picking them out again, by the time I'm five in he's turned his head away from me and breathes in sharply every time I touch his ribs. I shake my head, absolutely loathing this entire situation.

_My head is __bloody__, but __**unbowed**__._

I try to go faster to get it over with, leaning over him and supporting myself on my good arm as I bridge my body over his to reach the far side of his ribcage. My pile, increased by 35, serves to freak me out farther as I imagine how it would feel to have all of them in my skin. It makes me shiver. "Lean forward," I tell him gently. He does, as far as the cuffs will allow. He groans as the angle grows increasingly uncomfortable. This time I have to literally force down vomit as I get a full view of what damage that belt caused. Carnage is more like it. I know how that feels. Mine has to look _at least_ that bad, considering the crazy gorilla went after me. Ugh. I lean my forearm on the base of his shoulders for leverage and move carefully around the welts and wounds. His back looks like it went through a meat grinder.

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

There are 12 back here. It takes me twice as long with how careful I'm being. I take my other sock and do what I can to clean up this mess. I whisper, "you can lean back now," and scoot back to give him room, taking my sock with me.

_Looms but the Horror of the shade,_

"That bad, huh?" I swallow hard. "Don't you sugarcoat it," he warns me.

"Yeah. It's pretty bad." He closes his eyes and leans back against the wall.

"I need a second." If he's asking me to stop, it must be even worse than I thought. "Are you thirsty?" He asks. I look incredulously at him.

"Yeah, almost drowning really made me miss the water."

"Seems like it didn't dampen your sarcasm."

"Nothing can, you know that. And that's not a very nice way to ask someone to get you water." He grins sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah, don't give me those eyes."

_And yet the menace of the years_

I reach out as far as my ankle will let me, and grab the shreds of the black PMA shirt I wore here. Hey, whatever I can use, I will use. I take one in my right hand and stand up, holding my foot out behind me to reach the tub. I soak it in the freezing cold water and hop a couple steps toward Jeff. He opens his mouth and tilts his head back, and I wring the cloth out into it. I do it a couple more times until I trip on my way to the water and smack my head on the steel. I put a hand to the crevice in my cranium to find it reopened and spurting blood. "Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

"Sit down before you hurt yourself, man."

"I already did," I tell him, showing him my bloody hand.

"Shit. Sorry, Punk." I hold the cold rag to my skull and scoot over to him.

"It's fine. I wasn't being careful."

"I don't like being in a place where it isn't even safe to drink water."

"I don't like being in a place where people are trying to destroy us from the inside out." We're both quiet for a while. Jeff breaks the silence with a coughing fit.

"How are we going to get out of here?" He wheezes out.

"I don't know. I really don't." I sigh. "We can't give up."

_Finds, and shall find, me __unafraid__._

"We need a miracle."

"Stranger things have happened." He scoffs.

"Ain't that the truth."

"We aren't beaten yet. We're not broken."

"Keyword there is **yet**, my friend."

"I'm trying to be inspiring here if you'd shut your face for ten seconds, dipshit," I joke, pushing his shoulder.

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

"Fine, fine, do your thing, Punky."

"Don't call me Punky."

"You called me dipshit."

"Fair enough."

"Glad you see it my way, Punkers."

"You're pushing your luck."

"That's my job." I roll my eyes.

"We've got ten times the heart they do. Even if they take everything from us, they can't take that, not unless we let them. We hardly have control over anything down here, but maybe we can control that. Maybe we can't, but we haven't lost until we give up trying to win. Determination, stubbornness, pride, sarcasm, boldness, wittiness, guts, all those things that they hate about us, that they're trying to eradicate, that's what's keeping us alive, and that's what's going to get us through. As far as the concept of people finding us goes, if you could find this place, somebody else can. People will notice we're missing."

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

"Hunter will have excuses. For Vince and Dixie."

"You have to stop thinking that way. We'll get out of here. Give me your leg. It's almost over." He sighs and bends it back toward me. I do my best to go quickly but my fingers are shaking with the strain of using my broken arm so much. I try to steady it with my right arm, breathing through it as my arm and my freshly cracked skull throb in pain. My pile makes it to 79 and I breathe a sigh of relief, pressing a blood-soaked sock to his leg. I pocket 15 or so, as many as I can without them being noticeable or poking me. Just in case. "They're all out." I tell him with faint enthusiasm.

"I still can't believe this is happening."

"I know."

_I am the __master_ _of my __**fate**__:_

Then I remember the sandwich. I wipe my bloody hands off on my shorts and grab the bag from where I had it stashed away. "Hey, I forgot, Hunter gave me some food before he left."

"Where'd he go?"

"I don't know. He said he had shit to take care of."

"Great." He remarks sarcastically.

"At least he's not here right now. I saved you some." I unzip the bag and grab the other sandwich. He seems a little dejected. "What?"

"I can't use my arms, man." Oh.

"I can help you." He looks embarrassed. "Don't sweat it. It's no big deal." He's got to be hungry, I've no idea what time or day it is. As I start to break the sandwich into pieces, I wonder if Jeff might. "Do you know what day it was when you got here?"

"Tuesday."

"It's probably Wednesday, then." I mutter. I take a piece of sandwich in my hand. "Come on, you've got to eat." He swallows his pride and allows me to feed him the sandwich. As I go about it, deafening silence overtakes the dingy basement. I smile and start humming "No More Words" to myself, which was Jeff's entrance music when he was in WWE. I can see a smirk cross his face as he finishes the meal.

"You're so weird sometimes." I laugh a little and punch his shoulder lightly.

"You know you love it." It's strange and wonderful that we can make light even of _this_ situation. We've always been able to laugh at anything. I change to "Guilty by Association" by H2O, which is a song I sang with them a couple years ago. One of my favorite bands. I lean against the wall next to him. "When we get out of here, you're going to come see them with me." I have to stay positive. I have to stay positive.

_I am the captain of my soul._

A/N: I love that poem so much and I thought it was so fitting for this story… "my head, bloody but unbowed," it's perfect. I hope it didn't bore you XD

A/N: I had to do so much math for this goddamn chapter (to carry over the tack count from a few chaps ago and to figure out what day it was. The struggle is real.) I hope you appreciate it XD. But you can triple check it, it's all right, I promise.

Reviews?


	22. Chapter 22: Someone Who Cares

Chapter 22: Someone Who Cares  
Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, non-con/rape (IN THIS CHAPTER).  
SONG: SOMEONE WHO CARES BY THREE DAYS GRACE

A/N: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX (RAPE) BETWEEN A FATHER AND SON. IF THAT IS SOMETHING THAT YOU ARE EXCEPTIONALLY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH, I STRONGLY SUGGEST YOU SKIP THIS CHAPTER.

I'm not trying to scare you away. I think this is one of my more well written chapters, and it plays an important and pivotal role in my character's backstory, and it gives my whole story depth. I would much rather you **do** read it. However, I understand the wishes of others and that some people can't deal with reading this stuff. I don't want to cause problems, so I'm getting it out there that there's some heavy stuff ahead.

_**Every street in this city is the same to me,**_

••••

Punk told me he's finally opening up about the basement ordeal, and I thought it was a great idea, so of course I'm more than happy to butt in a little and offer an outside perspective. Never actually having entered the basement during the terrible events that occurred, I experienced some of the things that happened on the outside. Hunter tried to cover all his bases, and he tried to use me in his game. This is personal, as personal as personal can be. I'd introduce myself, but I think it's better if I just write for a while without saying my name. If anyone ever reads this, you can guess who I am. Like a game, you know, cause everything else about this is depressing as fuck. I think it'll do some good though. Like my predecessors, I too love quality music. Predecessors, that's a fun word. I mean, say it, predecessors, it's fun. What was I saying? Um… oh yeah, I might throw some lyrics in here. I don't know, I'm kind of all over the place. Aren't we all a little bit crazy to begin with?

_**everyone's got a place to be but there's no room for me.**_

_He's been drinking. I can smell it on his breath. That is a smell I learned to fear a long time ago. __Cheap beer and cigarette smoke. The sleazy 5 o'clock shadow with loose crumbs strewn about it. The smelly wifebeater with sweat stains from the humid June weather. Wifebeater, huh. Ironic, isn't it? He leaves his wife alone. He's a son-beater. Rough jeans with dirt around the cuffs, holes in the knees. Unemployment has its drawbacks, doesn't it, Dad? Black-gray hair sticks up at all ends. He's a filthy, disgusting mess. And he takes it out on me. __But this time is worse, and I don't know where he's going with it. I can tell he's not going to just throw me against the frail wall of our 3-room flat and tell me I'm a burden, or worthless, or that he wishes I'd never been born. He's hit me more times than I can count. I'm not exactly 'used to it', but I've come to expect that my father will take out his aggressions on me. He doesn't care that I'm only 12 years old. __I know that because he started beating me as soon as I was old enough to remember it. As soon as my mom left. __He doesn't care that sometimes I can't pay attention in school because I'm busy trying to make sure nobody notices I have a separated shoulder. Or that I have to wear jeans and long sleeves __year round __to hide the bruises and the scars._ _He really just doesn't care about me. Cincinnati is a busy city, __**nobody**_ _cares that my dad uses me as a punching bag. No one at my school knows. He says if I tell anyone he'll shoot me, and I believe him. I'm sure the only reason he hasn't tossed me out on the street yet is because he likes throwing me around. I've yelled back at him sometimes but it usually makes him madder and I end up catching it worse. I'm not exactly a quiet, obedient little angel child, so I don't always sit there and take it. But I can tell it's worse than one of his moods tonight. __I know, because I hid in the closet in the hallway when he came home, and he went in and found me, and dragged me out. Normally, if he can't find me, he'll leave me alone. But tonight is different. My mother left us over four years ago, and he's been cruel to me ever since. Like that's my fault. __Those are the only signs I need in order to realize I'm in for it. __That's when two other men barge through our front door. I don't recognize them, but my dad does. He gives a twisted smirk, revealing yellow, tobacco stained teeth. One of the men is sturdy and strong looking, the other is taller and thinner. They both look terrifyingly sinister. "So this is your kid, hey Jay?" Asks Tall, sounding amused. My father's name is Justyse. I've never heard anyone call him anything else. That tells me that he's either very close to them, or they're all drunk off their asses. The latter is more likely. As they advance toward me, I back up until I'm up against the wall. Strong wraps his meaty hand around my neck. His voice is higher than the other's._

_"There isn't much to you, boy." I'd laugh at the pitch but I literally can't. As I try to peel his fingers off, he squeezes harder. I choke and splutter while they all laugh._

_"Isn't much to me cause he don't feed me." I choke out. A hard kick to my stomach threatens to send me to the ground, but Strong's hand prevents it. Maybe not my best idea. _

_**Am I to blame when the guilt and the shame hang over me?**_

_"Understand why he needs to be taught a lesson now?" My father growls, a cigarette dangling carelessly from the corner of his mouth. _

_"And I love what you have in mind." My eyes widen and I kick out towards these foreign men. My strikes only bounce off of them. I start getting lightheaded and dizzy, my arms fall to my sides as I lose the strength to keep fighting. Smiling, Strong releases my neck. I drop to the ground and tilt sideways, gasping for air. __**What does he have in mind? What did I do? **__I push against the ground to get up, but crash down again as a boot connects with my chest, driving all of the air out of me. "GET UP!" Tall screams at me. I make another attempt and he kicks me in the ribs as hard as he can. I feel a snap and it suddenly becomes unbearably difficult to breathe. As I lie there, feeling like I'm dying, my father goes into one of his tirades._ _He yells loud enough that I worry my eardrums will explode. Things I can't quite make out, but I catch the word 'fuck' a handful of times, and I think he refers to me as a 'little shit', 'waste of time', and some other things that I try not to hear._

_**Like a dark cloud that chases you down in the pouring rain.**_

_As he carries on and on, Strong picks up on my sign of weakness. He pulls me up to my feet and __throws me against the wall next to the stairs. I struggle to get up as my heartbeat quickens. The basement __is_ _closer to me __than it's ever been. I'm forbidden to go down there__. He laughs, a deep, sickening, bone chilling sound. "Pathetic!" He screams as he kicks me hard enough that I start falling down the stairs. My body twists and tumbles uncontrollably to the bare concrete below._ _The trio pounds down after me at an impossible speed. __I scramble to get to my feet at the bottom of the steps, but __Tall's __boot in my throat stops my efforts. I frantically dart my eyes around the room I'm not allowed to be in. There's not much to it, but I have a sinking feeling it's going to be what happens in the room, not the room itself. __Being alone with my violent, drunk dad and his two violent, drunk friends will spell bad news for me, that much is inescapably true__. __Tall __kicks me in the left half of my rib cage, ribs he __must_ _know he broke __mere minutes __ago, ribs he __must_ _know __are killing me. __I try to suppress a scream of pain, and it comes out as a groan through my teeth instead. The next glimpse I get of __them they're __smiling, and I dig my nails into my palms to stop from going off on __them__. I'm in a 'situation' as is. The worst __it's __ever been. __It's bad enough when he's alone. But now he has help. Help, yeah. Like a 37 year old man needs any help beating his twelve year old son. __I've seen more in twelve years than some see in a lifetime, but I have no earthly idea what __they're __going to do to me._ Why do we need to be down here? Why is it important enough for him to come and find me? Why are these strangers here?

_**It's so hard to find someone who cares about you.**_

_I gasp as a foot connects again. __This one belongs to my father. _

_"Dad," I pant out. __He starts hurling insults at me again as his friends congregate in a corner. _

_"Shut your mouth right fucking now, boy. Shut up. Shut your ungrateful, useless fucking mouth. I don't want to hear another goddamn word out of you until I say otherwise. Got it?"_

_**But it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you.**_

_He kicks me again, harder. This time I can't help it and I scream, once, as quietly as I can. "I. Said. SHUT. UP." He rolls me onto my stomach and sticks one of his knees into my back. It's getting increasingly difficult to breathe with his __weight on my broken ribs. __Frustration stems from hopelessness and I act rashly. _

_"Fuck you __guys__," I whisper under my breath. He laughs and digs his knee harder into me. __The other two venture our way and chuckle as well. _

_**Why is it so hard to find someone who cares about you? **_

_"That's where you're wrong, you stupid_ _punk__. It's not fuck_ _us__, it's fuck you." My blood turns to ice as a horrific thought creeps in my mind. _No_, I try to reason with myself, _he's not **that** sick_. _

_"But Da—" I'm cut off as he puts all his weight into the knee in my back, my plea turning to a scream. He speaks into my hair, his hot breath on my ear. _

_"You heard me, boy. I said __fuck you._ _" Now I'm panicking. __Boots walk past my face but I don't know whose they are, what they're doing or where they're going. Someone pulls my shirt up and over my head. As the ice cold floor connects with my bare skin, I bite my lip and groan. __My hands scratch frantically against the ground for a hold that doesn't exist. He's too heavy. I can't get up. But then he gets off and a glimmer of hope returns. It's quickly squashed as __I hear the tell-tale sound of duct tape coming off a roll. My breathing quickens and I scream hysterically. "Get away from me! Get away! Leave me alone! I didn't do anything, Dad! I didn't do anything! Get them away from me!" _

_**But it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you?**_

_Another familiar sound forces me to plaster myself to the floor. That's my dad's pistol cocking. _

_"Shut the fuck up or your brains are gonna splatter all over this floor. Don't you go around telling us what to do. You don't have any sort of power and you've gotten yourself into quite the predicament. Now let's have those arms. Here is when you lose all control."_

_A standing person steps on me as someone else tapes my hands behind my back. I grunt with the effort breathing takes with my ribs and a 250 pound man standing on me. Gang rape. And there's nothing I can do. I __pray silently to God, _Holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph, please don't let him rape me. Please no, God, please God, please. _When the weight leaves my back __I pull against the tape, knowing full well I won't be able to get it off. I try to get up on my knees, but searing pain in my ribs prohibits it. My shoes are still scraping at the floor but I know that won't help me out of this mess. I am 100% helpless and at __their_ _mercy, __and that scares the shit out of me. _

_**It's not what it seems, when you're not on the scene, there's a chill in the air.**_

_I hear buttons pop and zippers and my heart pounds in my ears and my father is going to rape me. A man I'm supposed to trust, __and two men that I guess he trusts,_ _are going to take my innocence from me. This is undeniably true. __Guess he trusts them enough to have their way with his son. Breathing in the gritty smell of concrete and water damage, I begin to plead for my life and my innocence. _

_**But there's people like me that nobody sees, so nobody cares.**_

_"N-n-n-n-n-no. Please leave me alone. I'm your son! I'm twelve years old! Please, dad." A boot smashes my head down into the floor. _

_"What did I tell you about opening that useless mouth of yours?" A laugh follows._

_"Hey now, I think his mouth could be good for something." A cold, wicked, cruel chuckle follows and I wonder what he means. _

_Someone picks me up to my knees. "Open up," and I recognize the higher voice of Strong. He punches me in the face. "Open your mouth, you piece of shit." What does he want with my mouth? Still reeling from the blow, I comply almost without realizing it. To my horror, he jams his cock down my throat, and when I gag he pulls out and shoves it back in again. Someone yanks my head back by my hair, and holds me there while he fucks my face. I taste blood as he stretches my lips farther than they should. Between disgusting grunts, he pants out, "you had better keep your teeth off if you know what's good for you, kid." I gasp for breath as I choke on my own blood, spit and the dudes junk in my mouth. The need for air grows increasingly urgent as he triggers my gag reflex time and time again. I feel like throwing up… for more reasons than one. _

_**It's so hard to find someone who cares about you.**_

_I do my best to open wide enough that I won't bite him, but it's hard when he's practically suffocating me. He pats my head, like a dog. _

_**But it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you.**_

_"Mmm, such a good little whore when you want to be, huh? Wanna be a good whore and suck my cock with that sweet virgin mouth of yours?" _

_**Why is it so hard to find someone who cares about you?**_

_I fight the strong urge to bite him. But when someone reaches around me for the button of my jeans, I freeze. _

_**But it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you?**_

_I completely freeze, and in that second that I'm frozen, he has my jeans and my boxers to my knees. I struggle against the tape as Strong moans low, a primal noise, and pulls out of my mouth, squeezing my neck to force my mouth open and shooting his load all over my face. "Swallow." He commands. I force what salty fluid ended up in my mouth down my aching throat, and almost puke at the thought of what I just did. I'm not given reprieve though, because immediately I'm shoved down on my face. Not one moment later, screaming pain comes from my ass. Someone, I have to assume Tall, has penetrated me. I scream and cry for help that I know I won't receive. _Please God, let this nightmare end. Please let him leave and wake up tomorrow hungover and haphazardly apologize to me like he always does.

_**I swear this time it won't turn out the same,**_

_"Please don't let them do this, Dad. Please, I'm sorry, I'll try as hard as I can not to disappoint you again. I'll do anything you ask, please leave me alone, I can't take it anymore, this is killing me. Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry." I hear the familiar gruff laughter from somewhere behind me as Tall snaps his hips into me. "Such a fucking slut, taking it in both holes before you even get to high school." He moans in my ear and I shudder. "So pretty, so vulnerable, your virginity wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway, kid." _

_**cause now I've got myself to blame, **_

_I rip at the tape restraining me and scream. _Get this creepy bastard away from me. _The tearing pain is unbearable, and I just want these strange men to stop violating me. I want them to go back to wherever they came from, and I want my dad to go back upstairs and sleep his buzz off. _

_**and you'll know when we end up on the streets.**_

_But at the same time I want to scream at him that he's a sick son of a bitch._

_**That it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you.**_

_I try to wriggle and squirm away from them a__s Tall pulls out again, __but he rakes his fingernails down my __bare_ _back, making me arch away from him __and stopping my struggles. __I can tell I'm going to have scratches there. Scratches, right. That's the least of my problems. "Fucking __**stay**__, you rotten bitch!" __My dad yells from a distance. __My breath is coming faster and I'm so afraid. I'm so afraid, I've never been so afraid in my life. A shiver overtakes me at the freezing floor __as this stranger pauses inside of me. He leans his warm, sweaty body against my exposed skin, still burning from the scratches. His hot, tobacco laced breath sweeps over the side of my head. The shiver turns to one of disgust as he runs his tongue from my temple to my jawline. I tell myself to hold still as I'm at this man's mercy, but it's so gross and I just want to tell him how fucking twisted he is. His dirty whisper reaches my ear. __"No one is coming to save you." I squeeze my eyes as tight as I can __and turn my head away from him__, as if that action alone will get him away from me. __He reaches his hand up and grabs a hold of my hair, wrenching it back so I'm forced to look at him head on. He leans in farther and kisses me, yanking on my hair harder when I try to pull away. He forces his tongue in past my lips and the taste of deadbeat invades my senses. As I scream into him, he snaps his hips again. I scream louder as the thrusts become more erratic and painful. I try to plead with him, but all my pleas are swallowed up by his dirty kiss. My thoughts turn to mush while this man pistons into me again and again. It gets increasingly harder and harder to breathe, I can hardly get any air while Tall continues to rape my mouth with his tongue. "Fuck yeah, let me get up in this pretty ass of yours," he moans against me. The hand he isn't using to hold my head still drifts to my broken ribs. Ribs he broke. He starts slamming his fist into them in time with his violent thrusts. He finally breaks the kiss and I scream harder but it falls on deaf ears. "Fucking tight ass," he grunts as I force down bile. _That's because I'm a goddamn virgin, you asshole.

_**Why is it so hard to find someone who cares about you?**_

_Soon after, he cums deep inside me, riding it out before finally getting off. Breathless, he steps on me on his way to the opposite side of the room than the one my dad is at. I spit blood out to the side and cough hard, jarring my ribs. I try to make it back to my knees but it just hurts too much. As I try to catch my breath, my dad tells Tall and Strong to leave. I stare at the ground so I don't have to look at my rapists. I can hear them chuckle softly and the scraping of their boots against the concrete floor. Tears leak from my eyes and hit the ground as their parting words reach my ears. _

_"Thanks for a great time, Justyse! Your kid's a hell of a good fuck." Their feet pound up the stairs and I'm alone with my dad. I know he isn't done yet, and that's what really scares me. Because I'm a mess already, and it's going to get worse. __Then, without warning of any kind, he penetrates me and I'm screaming louder than I knew I could. It hurts more than I thought it possibly could. Pain like this can't be put into words. __It's so much worse this time around. _ _I struggle with my arms behind me but they won't budge. Eventually, realizing there's nothing else I can do, I press my forehead against the floor and shriek until my voice is gone. It's high-pitched wailing, the kind I've never heard from myself. My screams don't stop after that, they just aren't audible. He makes some sort of disgusting grunting noises as it gets increasingly worse. Pulling almost all the way out and then swiftly thrusting in again. I can feel tearing inside of me and I start crying and screaming and sobbing and begging, though I know it's useless._

_"Dad, Dad, stop, Dad stop, please stop, please Dad, stop, oh God please stop, I'll do anything. __Please listen to me. God, it hurts. It hurts so bad, __please Dad." He scoffs and keeps banging into me._

_"It's supposed to." He says it coldly. _

_**But it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you?**_

_Tears pour down my face and splash onto the cold concrete underneath me. Concrete I slam my head into with each of his agonizing thrusts. I start muttering incoherent words between wracking sobs. I can't form an intelligent thought because I can't see anything but the floor. Can't hear anything but smacking and grunts. Can't smell anything but blood. Can't taste anything but coppery blood taste,_ _that and remnants of Strong's cum. Yuck__. Can't feel anything but tearing, ripping, searing, relentless, unforgiving pain. The only thought in my brain is that it feels like it's gone on for years and how desperate I am for it to end. I can't hardly __catch my breath __with how hard I'm crying. Breathing impossibly fast and not taking in nearly enough air, I get out fragmented words that were once a complete thought but have been shattered by __this gang rape set up by my father__. _

_"Stop, hurt, Dad, please, no, God, I, alone, sorry," and then he starts going faster and the screams get higher and only cracked bits of sound come out. My fists clench behind me but I can't do anything to stop him. Can't. Do. Anything. I'm convinced it can get any worse until he starts talking to me. _

_"This is your fault. You __**made**_ _me do this. You're a filthy, pathetic excuse. I'm ashamed to call you my son. You deserve this. Every last motherfucking second. You deserve it. Weak." I was wrong. It just got a lot worse. Once he puts the thought into my head I think it to be true because it's the only reason why something as unbelievably cruel as this would happen to me—by my own father's hand, no less. _

_"I'm sorry." I whisper through desperate gasps for air. _

_**Why is it so hard to find someone who cares about you? **_

_"It's too fucking late for sorry!"_

_One, two, three, four of his God-awful thrusts and he's spilled his seed into me, making the grunts louder and the pain far more intense. He pauses a moment when it seems to be over, before finally taking it out. I'm still crying but I try to take deep breaths and calm myself down. I don't feel safe yet, not while he's still this close to me, not while I still can't use my arms, not while my ribs are still broken. _You're still alive, you're still alive, _yeah, that's great. I'd rather be dead. Death would be a blessing right now. I can hear the zipper go back up and a couple footsteps and then he gets down on his stomach in front of me. I quickly look to the floor and try, unsuccessfully, to quiet my sobs. "Hey! HEY! LOOK AT ME!" He screams in my face, the cheap beer on his breath in closer proximity to me than I ever wanted it to be. I force myself to look at him, my breath still coming hard and fast but the tears falling as silently as I can make them. "Maybe if you weren't such a good-for-nothing failure, you wouldn't need to be punished." He gets up and heads for the stairs. I moan and try to turn over. "Figure it out yourself." And he leaves. If only it'd be for the rest of my life._

_**But it's easy enough to find someone who looks down on you?**_

_A/N: I don't know about you guys, but I was swearing fluently by the time I was twelve. I took into account the character's background and such and came to the conclusion that he'd act the same. I'm sorry if this seems like an unrealistic age for that to occur, but given that the character in general had to grow up too quickly, I found it fitting. _

_A/N: For anyone that can't figure it out and are bothered by it (I would be) Justyse is pronounced like justice. _

_A/N: Rape is a serious crime. This scene is not meant to be sexy, it's supposed to be horrible and wrong. Rape is not to be taken lightly. It's a terrible thing that leaves irreparable damage in its wake. I rewrote this about thirty times because I needed this chapter to convey my message perfectly. This is emotionally scarring, this is wrong, this is not okay. I'm building a backstory. Know that I am not in any way condoning the father's actions. Thanks for keeping an open mind, and thank you for reading!_

Reviews?


	23. Chapter 23: Written In The Stars

Chapter 23: Written In The Stars  
Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in later chapters, non-con/rape (in earlier chapters and later chapters).  
SONG: WRITTEN IN THE STARS BY TINIE TEMPAH

_Written in the stars, a million miles away,_

I sit bolt upright covered in a freezing cold sweat. _Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream— __**just a fucking nightmare. **__Not real. It's not real. _**But it happened. It did. **_He doesn't have power over you anymore. __He can't touch you. Ever again. Why the fuck is it that almost all vivid memories are linked to bad emotions? Fear, anger, pain, depression, hopelessness, broken trust, loneliness, terror. With how much of my childhood was made up of those shit feelings, it's a miracle I don't have an eidetic memory of all of it. _ I turn and look at the glowing green alarm clock beside our bed. Shit. 3:45. I have an alley I need to be at in 15 minutes. I roll out of bed as quietly as possible and quickly throw some clothes on.

_a message to the main oh. _

I pound down the steps and out the door, in a frenzy. I can't be late. I know he means business and I don't want to lose my job, my dream. I find it a couple blocks from my hotel. It's empty and desolate, the warm August breeze blowing across my bare arms and some crumpled up newspaper strewn about a pungent smelling dumpster. I lean against a concrete wall and shiver, crossing my arms. I feel like a wet dog, I'm so sweaty from that nightmare. I wonder what Hunter could possibly want with me. I kick the wall with the heel of my shoe listlessly and wish he was here with me. I'd feel a lot safer if I didn't have to face Hunter alone.

_Seasons come and go, but I will never change, and I'm on my way._

There was something off about his phone call. I'm surprised I beat him here. I catch a glint off of sunglasses and step away from the wall.

"You're la-ate," I sing.

"Watch it." He warns. I smirk and put my hands up in mock surrender.

"Ooooh. Let me go buy some boots so I can shake in them." He makes a move toward me and on the balls of my feet, I combat roll in the opposite direction. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Can you calm the fuck down so we can talk like adults?"

_You're listening now, they say they ain't heard nothin like this in a while._

"As long as you can keep your hands off me."

"Fine." I cock my head and look at him sideways, brushing gravel off my arms.

"Why'd you ask me to come _here_?"

"That's irrelevant. You're going to do something for me. You're not going to like it, but you're going to do it."

I scoff. "No hello? No how are you? No 'nice weather we're having'? No I am the game-uh? You're just gonna come make demands? What if I decline?"

_That's why they play my song on so many different dials._

"I'd think twice before pushing me if I were you, you fucking smartass. I'll discuss my terms at _my _leisure."

"Well you aren't me. **I** don't respond well to threats. Do you honestly think you scare me?"

"I should." I shake my head bemusedly.

"You don't."

"I think that might change soon."

"What could you _possibly_ want from me?"

"You'd be surprised. You're indispensably essential to my plan."

"How? What plan? Just fucking tell me!" I'm done with this Nancy Drew 20 questions bullshit. He gets up in my face.

"You had best take the bass out of your voice when you talk to me."

"Or what? Get it through your thick skull. You don't own me. No one d—" He cuts me off.

"You sure your little boyfriend doesn't?" Heat rushes to my face.

"Leave him the hell out of this."

"Why would I when it so _obviously_ drives you crazy? So, about my preposition…"

_Cause I got more fuckin' hits than a disciplined child._

"Until I see something convincing, I ain't doing shit for you."

"Hmm." He taps his chin as if he was still considering the options himself. "Convincing. I can do that."

"Can you now?"

"Yes. Here's what you're going to do. You're friends with Punk, right?" That's a question he knows the answer to. Punk and I go way back. But what does _he_ have to do with _anything_?

"Yeah. What of it?"

"You have a choice. Either I bury your boyfriend and destroy his life's work, his everything, what he gave his life for, or—"

"There's no way in hell you're going to bury him. That's not even in the question. Cough it up. What's the other 'choice'?"

"I'm glad you feel that way, and I thought you might." He grins wickedly and it sends shivers down my spine. "I want you to rape CM Punk." I take a step back and my eyes get wide. This must be a joke. Some kind of sick joke, does he know? Does he know what my dad did to me? He can't. Is he making fun of me for being gay? That's pretty childish, and his request seems a little too dark for a harmless attempt to poke fun at me. I must look freaked because he's laughing quietly to himself. Hunter can be angry, stubborn, and unreasonable at times, but I've never known him to be this sinister.

"You _can't_ be serious."

_Look at my jacket and hat, so damn berserk, so down to earth, I'm bringing gravity back._

"I'm one hundred percent serious."

He can't make me do that. But the sick thing is, he _can_. I can't risk everything he's worked so hard to accomplish. I love him, it'd crush him, he'd never recover. I'd never forgive myself. But Jesus Christ, why would he want me to do that? Am I actually going to be forced into this? I can't…oh God this is making me sick. I can feel an attack coming on but I force it down. I refuse to let him see that this is breaking me. I sink to my knees in front of him and hold my head in my hands. Pleading with him is most likely useless, but I can't think of another solution.

"Please, dear God, don't make me," I shiver, "touch him like that. I know you guys don't like each other, but this? What the fuck did he ever do to you? What the fuck did _I _do to you? Why him? Why me? Why rape? Why in God's name do you want _me_ to rape _him_?" He ignores me. Fucking bastard.

"I gave you a choice."

"No, you fucking didn't. That was a threat. You know I'd never risk that. I love him."

"Then you've made your choice. You have to do it, don't you?"

"This is sick, this is going to traumatize him." I think back to the match he gave me when I was in developmental almost two years ago. He elevated me to ridiculous heights just by wrestling me. Punk has always been really good to me.

_I just want my family back!_

"That's what I want."

"**Why**?"

"He deserves it."

"Nobody deserves rape."

"Isn't really your place to decide, kid."

"Isn't yours either. Isn't anyone's place to decide whether to violate someone or not."

"That's _your _opinion."

"That's the truth."

"You want me to go after _him_ then, I take it? Crush his dream? Take away the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world? The reason why he works harder than everyone else? You want to be selfish? Is that what you want?"

_Where the hell's all the sanity at? Damn!_

"You know I don't. But Punk is my friend, I can't …"

"You _can_. And you will."

"You're sick, you're really fucking sick, you know that? Shit, Hunter, you realize you're talking about taking an innocent life here?" I lift my head to stare up at him, shaking my hair out of my eyes. He smiles, but it's cold and cruel.

"You're not going to kill him."

"Believe me, he'll wish he was dead. Death is merciful compared to rape. With death it's quick and it's over. Rape is a pain you have to live with for the rest of your life." I stop myself. _You idiot! Could you possibly make it __any_ _more obvious? You might as well wear a fucking sign that says "my father raped me". Shut the fuck up __**now**_ _before he catches on!_

_I used to be the kid that no one cared about, you just have to keep screaming till they hear you out!_

"What would _you_ know about it? You talk like you have some sort of first hand experience with this." I bite my tongue. I'm not getting into that with him. He doesn't deserve to know.

"Nothing. I don't know anything about it. I just think he'll wish he was dead." It's a shit lie but I'm hoping against hope that I've thrown him off my trail.

_Oh, written in the stars,_

"That is _exactly _what I want."

_a million miles away,_

"Hunter, my boy never did anything wrong."

_a message to the main, oh._

"Why are you trying to bring him into something he has nothing to do with?"

_Seasons come and go, _

"Because it's the best way to get to you."

_but I will never change, _

"I can manipulate you in any way I want by threatening him."

_and I'm on my way._

"He is your biggest weakness. He means so much to you. He's the only person you let in. You push everyone away, but he's different, isn't he? And you feel like you're indebted to him because of it. So you'd do anything for him. And this time, you're going to rape CM Punk for him. I see that look on your face, kid. Am I wrong?"

"Don't fucking talk about him like that."

_I needed a change, for a sec I even gave up believing and praying._

"You know I'm right." I scrunch my face up in frustration.

"My boy will understand—he'll understand, I know he will. He would never want me to make the decision that _you_ want me to make. He'd tell me not to do it, if he were here. I know him, better than anyone. He would never want me to choose him over Punk. They're friends. He'll understand. He's damn good at what he does. He'll find a way to recover his career."

"Yeah, I thought you might pick that train of thought, so allow me sweeten the pot a little. I think you'll find that I can be very… persuasive. Let's just say that I have means to _annihilate _him, a thousand times worse than anything you could do. I hate to break it to you, but you don't know the whole story, Jack. He's, how should I say, not exactly 'one hundred percent'. Who knows? Maybe I'll just kill him."

_I even done illegal stuff and was leaded astray._

"You're not going to kill him."

"You have no way of knowing that. Really want to gamble with your so-called friend's life?" He reaches in his jacket pocket and pulls a little 4x6 picture out, and tosses it to me. "This something convincing? Like you wanted?" With trembling fingers, I turn it over and my eyes widen, the photo fluttering to the ground. It showed an unconscious Punk slumped and bound in a chair with blood pouring down his face. My blood starts to boil and words spill out of my mouth before my brain even comprehends them. I get up and in a flash I'm standing chest to chest with him, eye to eye, my body starting to tremble both with fury and fear. **"Where the FUCK are you keeping him? What the FUCK are you doing to him? What the FUCK **_**have**_ **you done? Jesus fucking Christ, Hunter, WHY? Why the fuck are you doing this? ****What makes you think this is okay? ****You sick, perverted fuck! My God, ****give me a reason not to ****murder you in cold fucking blood right ****here, right fucking now****!" **It ends in a growl and although I'm angry, there's a frantic fear that threatens to overtake me, at the thought of Punk being somewhere, helpless and alone, just like I was, while there's a very good possibility that Hunter is torturing him. I expect him to get as mad as I am, but he looks exceedingly amused by my outburst.

_They say that money is the root to the evilest ways._

"Who said I'm keeping him anywhere?"

"Don't play fucking cute with me, you crazy bastard. You said you had the means to hurt him. You said you knew he was hurt already. And the fucking picture? Come on, I'm not stupid. I. Want. Answers."

"Why should I give a flying fuck what you want? I stand by what I said, but you," he pushes me hard and I fall to the ground, "can keep your fucking nose out of it." I brush gravel off my forearms and stare at him with a forced smirk.

"With how big yours is, it's no wonder you're up in everyone's business," I snap. He kicks me in the face and as I try to get up, he puts his boot in my throat. The flashbacks threaten to overtake, but I force it down. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to resist.

_But have you ever been so hungry it keeps you awake?_

"Oh just shut up, will you? You'll find out for yourself when you come to do what I asked you to. You're not going to give up Punk's well-being—or what's left of it, possibly _even his life_, and your precious boyfriend's career. I've known you since you got here. You won't. So you'll find out where, and if Punk is there, what's been done to him." I seethe in rage on the ground, but try to calm myself down, getting mad is a bad idea. But my breath starts to come faster through my constricted airway. I can barely breathe. I try to get him off but he only puts more weight into it.

_Great, it feels like a long time coming. _

"You're fucking sick." I choke out.

"I know that, I'm not stupid. It's enjoyable. I like it. You of all people should know it's fun being bad."

"Hunter, that's all storyline."

"Does it really matter?"

"Kind of. There's sort of a big difference."

_Since the day I thought of that cunning plan._

"So what? Let's see… I think you started out bottoming, cause you were scared, right?" I try to scramble up at that. I'm so pissed. But he stands on my throat with all his weight and I cough and splutter for breath. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Am I embarrassing you, kid? I feel real bad about that. And once you got used to it, you top now, don't you?" I feel myself blush when he says that. That's fucking personal. How the fuck does he know that?

_One day I had a dream, I tried to chase it. But I wasn't going nowhere, running man!_

I try to turn my head away, but he won't let me.

_I knew that maybe someday I would understand. _

I can't look at him.

_Trying to change a tenner to a hundred grand._

I don't know how, but he knows about my dad.

_Everyone's a kid that no one cares about. _

He knows about everything.

_**You just gotta keep screaming till they hear you out!**_

"You ashamed of something?" I'm gonna fucking murder you, Hunter. "There something you wanna tell me?"

"Shut the fuck up. That's fucking personal and you have no right."

"What's personal?"

"You _know_ what."

"Why don't you educate me?"

"That is between me and him."

"Who's him?"

"I'm warning you. Drop it."

"You're warning me? From the ground, with my foot in your throat? _You're_ warning _me_? Why don't you tell me **why** you were scared, and then we can move on. Have anything to do with your little speech about rape and death?" I can feel the panic attack coming. My breathing gets faster and my vision starts to double. I can feel the tears running down my face as I fail to hide it from Triple H. "Aww. Poor baby." I drag my hand over my face and pull my hair.

"Goddamn it, my dad raped me and you know it! And yes, I am fucking ashamed of it and yes, it is embarrassing and I don't know **how** you found out! I was fucking twelve years old and he gang raped me with two other men! He did it more times than I can count and you know it and that's why you're making me do this!" I'm out of breath and sobbing by the time he lets me up. I push myself back up to my hands and knees and cough, feeling my split lip with my tongue. I feel impossibly small and weak. He laughs at me.

_Oh, written in the stars,_

"Knew you were hiding something."

"Who told you?"

"You did. Just now." Fuck it. Fuck him, fuck it, fuck everything.

"Do you feel good about yourself now, you fucking prick?"

"Yeah, I do. You're pathetic. Answer my question."

"What question?"

"Do you top, you piece of shit?" I just feel defeated.

_a million miles away,_

"Yes."

"Good. You'll know what you're doing then. I think you and I both know you're going to do it." He says it threateningly. Like he wants me to be afraid. And I am. But not of Hunter. Of what Hunter will do to Punk if I don't go along with it. I'm still kicking myself for letting him manipulate me into telling him about my dad. I know he'll only use it against me. It dawns on me that I have to do it. God, I hate myself already. I am turning into my dad. Punk is me and I'm my dad and there's even gonna be another guy there and fuck. Fuck all of it. Words cannot describe how much I hate this man for turning me into my father.

_a message to the main ooooh._

I sit back on my knees and look up at him, willing tears not to come. I swallow hard and bow my head.

"I know."

"Good. I knew you'd come around. I love it when they fight. Makes it so much more fun when they finally break." I twitch a little. He's talking about Punk. I can tell. "I expect you to be _here_ by 2 in the afternoon on Friday." He throws a piece of paper with an address on it my way. "Or I'll come find you, and it won't be pretty. For you or for him. You best be on time. Oh, and one more thing."

"What?" I'm exasperated, but I try to say it as passively as possible. I've fucked enough things up tonight. Mouthing off to him won't help. It'll only make things worse. If they can get any worse, that is.

"Don't tell your little boyfriend. Or deal's off, you lose and I bury him anyway, and I smear Punk across a wall. Or you know, maybe he won't ever make it back to WWE."

"I lose either way." I mutter. He grins proudly.

"That's right."

_Seasons come and go,_

I sigh. "How am I supposed to explain my leaving?"

"That's your problem."

"No, it's not. _You're _making me do this. _You're_ turning me into my father."

"Hey hey hey now. I'm just turning you into a rapist. The fact that your daddy is one too is just a happy coincidence. Like father, like son, right? The apple doesn't fall too far from the crazy tree, does it?"

"Fuck you."

"Watch yourself. No need to make it worse for Punk than it already is, right?" I sigh.

_"You're _not letting me tell him. What's my excuse?"

"I don't know! Do you two honestly do everything together?"

"Pretty much. When you love someone, you want to be with them as much as possible. You," I stop myself before I make a sarcastic remark about him and Steph. _You fucking idiot. Keep your mouth shut. Turn the smartass off for ten seconds before you get Punk killed. _

"I what?"

"Nothing. Nothing. What am I supposed to tell my boy?"

"Think of something."

"That's all you're giving me? You're springing this crazy bullshit on me and you're just going to tell me to think of something?"

"You got that right. I'll leave the door open."

Some sort of awful emotion washes over me, something between shame, anger, regret, confusion and fear. I get up as Hunter walks away, grinning. I stare at him for a while, stooping down to pick the picture and the address up and shoving them in the back pocket of my jeans. When he's out of sight, I lean against a building because I feel like my legs are coming out from under me. My mind starts racing at a speed that makes me dizzy. _Where is this place? How did they get Punk there? Why? Why me? __How in God's name did Hunter get me to admit that my father took advantage of me? He had to know. He's just trying to make me blame myself. __Oh God, why do they want him raped? How could anyone ever hate someone enough to wish that on them? __What did Punk ever do to deserve this? __What if Punk never recovers from this? Why can't I do anything about it? _But the worst part is I know what it's like to be violated by someone you trust… but my sick, cruel, vile father lost that trust fairly soon after. God, I've always been terrified of turning out like him. I swore I'd be different. I swore I'd do everything in my power to make sure no one ever feels the way I felt around him. Now I'm about to do the same thing to one of my best friends.

_but I will never change,_

A guy who **took me in **like a little brother. I turn to face the wall and I feel the emotion in my throat like fire, spreading down into my chest and before I know it I'm banging my head against it. My breath starts coming faster than I want it to and I know what's going on but at the same time I don't. Damn panic disorder. Dad wasn't satisfied until the psychological pain he caused manifested into something that will fuck with me for the rest of my life. He's never been satisfied with me. I've never been good enough for him. I can't remember the last time I had a panic attack but I can tell this one won't end well. I don't know what to do. My boy is the only one who's ever been able to get me through one. I don't know how to face one alone. I've never been able to handle them alone. The familiar signs come through like a tidal wave. _I can't do this. Not now._ But I don't have a choice. I can't stop it. It tightens up in my chest and I can't breathe. I bang my head against the building again, but it only makes me dizzier. I lean my forehead against the cool concrete in hopes it'd clear my head, for a second and stare at it. I feel tears on my cheeks, though I don't remember shedding them. Then, before I know it, I'm sobbing on the ground, my back against the wall and my knees up to my chest. No matter how hard I fight not to black out, I can feel myself slipping away. I need to call him. When he picks up I tell him between gasps that I'm in the alley on South Main Street between the Union Bank and and the Spacemart. I think I hear him say he's coming but the phone has dropped from my hand. The ground is rushing up to meet me and then, nothing.

_and I'm on my way. _

A/N: I should think I've given enough clues for you guys to figure out who it is. Just having a little fun with you ;)

Reviews?


	24. Chapter 24: Not Gonna Die

Chapter 24: Not Gonna Die  
Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in later chapters, non-con/rape (in earlier chapters and later chapters).  
SONG: NOT GONNA DIE BY SKILLET

_**Death surrounds, my heartbeat's slowing down.**_

_Sometime after he's done it more times than I can count, after he kicks me out of the house again, I find myself on the wrong side of town. Which is all the sides when it comes to Cincinnati. __But my world is full of people who want to hurt me. Unfortunately, I'm dangerously close to a certain someone who holds some deep seated anger in his heart, against yours truly. I'm hoping against hope that I won't run into him. But every time, without fail, that I'm on his turf, he finds me. __I stare at the holes in my shoes and keep close to __the building beside me__, shivering in the midst of a December snowstorm with a jacket not nearly warm enough for the weather. I __dug it up from the bottom of __a dumpster sometime last year, it's the thickest jacket I can find. Being fairly skinny since my father rarely feeds me __and I have to steal most of my food,_ _the jacket is way too big and missing all the buttons, but at least I don't freeze to death."Well look who it is!" A menacing voice snarls and my head snaps up. __There's something else that __can_ _kill me, though._ Shit. Shit, shit, shit. **Shit!** I'm screwed. I'm fucking dead. _My eyes widen as I count eight total, back pedaling slowly. It's useless arguing or pleading with Slade and his __gang. I know. I've tried. The pack mentality outweighs anything I can do. They've got no clemency, so it's useless to ask for it__. I stop my backward motion and let him advance on me, holding my hands up defensively. I'm not running. __It isn't worth it. It only makes him mad. __He'd catch me anyway. He has before. I'm __prepared __to try and slug my way out of this, even though it's __essentially __useless. "It's just our luck, boys. Look what we've got here. S'matter, bitch? Daddy use your ass up and kick you out again?" I stiffen. He knows how to get me. He always has. I growl low in my throat, clenching my fists tighter. He fakes a sympathetic expression and looks around at his gang. "I think I might've struck a nerve, guys." He laughs wickedly and their deep snickers follow. Before I know it I'm __cornered between a wall and the pack, __with nowhere to go as they form a semicircle around me. I __wince as I hit the wall. The familiar feeling that always follows the rape, the sharp lower back pain and tenderness, inability to sit down, along with weakness from a particularly violent night on which I've lost a lot of blood. It's doing me no favors as I prepare myself for wave two of a really shitty night. Preparing to be reduced to a bloody pulp, laying prone on the frozen concrete. Preparing to lose the 20 bucks I'd earned doing odd jobs, that I'd been saving so I can eat this week. Preparing for baseball bats, broken bottles, brass knuckles, all of the things they've brought in the past._ _Slade emerges from the wall of bodies and smirks at me._

_**This is how it feels when you're bent and broken, this is how it feels when your dignity's stolen.**_

_"What do you want?" He makes a face. _

_"Oh please, bitch. You know damn well what it is I want from you."_

_"Why don't you educate me?" My voice bites with a dangerous and corrosive amount of sarcasm. He smirks. _

_"Ha. Ha. Ha. We've got a comedian here. Let me put it in a way even a street rat like you can understand. At what, twelve? You became your dad's bitch, and whoever else he brings over to that tin can you call a house. You're a weak, dirty slut of a kid, you know it, I know it," he jerks a thumb towards his crew, "they know it. So I made you __**my**_ _bitch, since you're so used to doing it already. So I'll kick your ass and spill your blood whenever I damn well please." I force a grin. _

_"You know I'm fourteen, right? And you jump me, at least once a week, and you beat me up __**real good**__. I am so amazed at how you do that. You pick your nineteen year old, deadbeat, dropout self out of bed every morning, and you take your crew of what? Seven? Eight guys? And you look for kids 5 years younger than you, and you beat them up and take their money, cause you're too lazy and stupid to get a real job."_

_**Break their hold, cause I won't be controlled,**_

_"But I'm your favorite, aren't I? Do you even know my name? That probably doesn't matter to you, right? Is it because I don't back down? Is it because I have the balls to stand up to creeps like you? Do you know __**why**_ _I'm good at that? Because you are exactly the same as my old man. You prey on those weaker than you, that you can easily overpower."_

_**they can't keep their chains on me, when the truth has set me free!**_

_"And you know I have to fight just to stay alive every goddamn day of my life. That I count myself lucky if I get through the day without something being taken from me. My money, my vi—" I stop myself before I say virginity. "My self-respect, my confidence, my blood, something is always being taken. And I'm your favorite, which means you take more from me than anyone else does. I am so impressed by how you do that." I'm a smartass. I know I am, I always have been. It's gotten me in trouble countless times, but I can't help it. I won't just give myself up to him. _

_**No! Not gonna die tonight, we're gonna stand and fight forever, don't close your eyes!**_

_He walks toward me slowly, stalking me almost. I press myself to the wall and shiver. _I'm screwed. I'm so screwed. _He gets right up in my face and knees me in the balls, cupping my face in his hand to bring it back up when I double over. "When are you gonna learn? You mouth off to me, like you always do, and you don't bother me. I honestly just think it's funny how you think you stand a chance. Don't you get it yet, kid? You came from nothing, and you are nothing. You were born a street rat and you will die a street rat. Hey, don't answer this, it's a rhetorical question. How long does it take before you start crying, when daddy comes after you?" _

_"Wow, rhetorical. Big word. How long did you practice saying that one?" _

_**No! Not gonna die tonight, we're gonna fight for us together. No, we're not gonna die tonight!**_

_He smacks me. _

_"Oh. My. God. How is it that you're the one who keeps taunting me, but I'm the stupid one?" _

_"If you were smart? You'd've searched me for the money I __don't_ _have, probably leave me lying, and walk away. But no, you needed to antagonize me. So you've already opened up a gap that I could escape. And I'm telling you this because you're still too stupid to act on it. You are literally being roasted by a freshman, and you don't say anything because you know I'm right. So now you'll beat the shit out of me because I'm pointing out all your shortcomings, and you hate yourself for that, and you're projecting it on me." Right now my only escape is school, where I keep my head down and try not to draw attention. Psychology is fascinating, and it's a breeze to profile Slade. _

_**This is how it feels when you take your life back, this is how it feels when you finally fight back!**_

_His face reddens. He clamps his hand around my throat and pins me to the wall, choking the life out of me. My legs kick out helplessly as I claw at his hand. _

_"All I have to do is squeeze, kid." I'm an idiot. I should shut my mouth. But for some unknown reason, I just can't. _

_"You won't do that." He presses harder as I gasp desperately. _

_"What makes you think I won't, genius boy?"_

_"You like fucking with me too much. Like I said, I'm your favorite. You love wrecking me, destroying me. You know I'm right. You'll take me to the limit, but you'll never kill me." I finally land a kick in his midriff and drop to the ground, rolling to my right and trying to run, only to collide with a burly gang member, which makes me fall. He picks me up clear off the ground by the collar of my jacket and drags me over to the wall I had just escaped. _I'm so screwed. I'm so fucking screwed. _Slade rubs the spot I kicked him in._

_"Don't make me break you, kid. It won't end well."_

_"Try me." I grunt. _

_"You just signed your death certificate, I hope you realize that." _

_"Does your dumb ass ever listen to me? You won't kill me. It's obvious you won't. So threatening me with that isn't gonna work." _

_**When life pushes me, I push harder,**_

_He sneers. __"__I've had enough of your shit." I sink farther towards the ground. He kicks me in the face, hard, and my nose spurts blood. It's broken. I can tell. A spark of fear creeps into my eyes, despite my best attempts to thwart it. He picks up on it instantly. "__Something wrong? You scared yet? Why don't you just roll over for me like you do for your father? You ask for it, you know." He shakes his head. "Don't know when you're gonna learn, kid. This," he motions to the seven that surround me, "wouldn't have to happen all the time if you weren't such a pathetic failure. __A smartass, stuck-up, failure. You can't do anything right. Nothing you do matters. You will never amount to __anything__.__" _

_**what doesn't kill me makes me stronger!**_

_My anger boils over and I hit him, square on the jaw, sending him back a couple steps. Then one of them has slammed my head against the wall behind me and I try to bolt off but he catches me and drops me to the __black ice below. I cough, my vision blurring at the edges. _

_"You know, there's this cool trick I can do where I don't give a flying fuck what you think of me." I tell him, coughing and spitting blood out. _

_**No! Not gonna die tonight, **_

_It earns me a kick to my face. Here it comes. Here's my punishment for having such a big fucking mouth. My fake shell of nonexistent confidence is shattered. My hip smarts at the blow, and I look up, alone and afraid. It's game on and open season on the dirt poor, defenseless kid__. __I know they're kicking me but suddenly the feeling is detached, because I can hear my dad's voice, and it becomes his foot __striking __me, only he's multiplied. __Ten of him stare back at me, and I push myself backwards, away from him, but there's another one behind me. __My breathing gets tight in my chest as I roll over to get to my hands and knees. I gasp for breath, only for a foot to connect with my ribcage, driving all the air out of me. I lay on my back and the gang's faces mix with my father's._ _As I try to pull myself up using Slade's jeans, he pushes me hard back to the ground. He begins to unbuckle his belt and someone else tears my jacket off my body, leaving me with the thin black undershirt that I got from a sympathetic employee at Wal-Mart. I shiver as the vicious wind cuts right through me, and that's when my dad's voice comes from Slade's mouth. _

_"You wanna get down and take this off for me, or do you want me to whip your ass with it?" Oh fuck. _

_**we're gonna stand and fight forever,**_

_Before I can respond, the strap comes down on my exposed back, knocking me to the ground. I scream through my teeth as my head smacks against the ice, my nose dripping blood. He keeps hitting me again and again, until all I can do is whimper, lacking the strength to even get back to my knees. The blood pours from my back, sticking to my shirt and flowing onto the ground. "Aren't you gonna get up, son? Come on, you made the choice, you __**told me**_ _you could take it, you __**told me**_ _you weren't afraid anymore. Where's that pathetic little rebellious spirit now? Come on, tell me with that goody two shoes, try hard, honor roll mouth of yours that you were wrong. That you aren't as strong as you think you are. I want you to use that mouth to beg me before I use it for something else." Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. _

_**don't close your eyes!**_

_I can smell the blood, feel the duct tape on my wrists. _Why am I in the basement? **Am** I in the basement? What's wrong with me? Why is my brain playing tricks on me? _Who I think is Slade squats next to me, but then __he morphs into __my dad and I scream. I beg him at the top of my lungs not to take me and I cover my head with my hands protectively, rolling to my stomach. I can't breathe. My mind is racing. _He just kicked me out, how can he be here? _I hear muffled laughter above me as my brain lapses back into reality, Slade imitating my voice with a higher version of his own. "No, no Dad please don't take me, __I can't go again tonight! I can't, I can barely walk as it is! __I'll be good. I'll do what you say, I promise, just leave me alone!" I still can't breathe, can't think straight. "You're pathetic, you know that?" He kicks me in the face __and I wipe the blood from my nose._

_"Slade," I cough. "Help me."_

_"Why the fuck would I help you, kid?"_ _I finally get the wherewithal to stand up and run._ _I grab my jacket from the ground and I run. My back screams in protest, but all I can do is run. _ _As fast as I can, and, __thank God__, I have enough jump on Slade to duck into an alley and behind a dumpster. __Tonight, Slade's own crimes against me will be his downfall. I'm fast for the sole reason that I'm chased by him so much. I have no other choice. Adapt or perish. __I'm still panicking, I feel like I'm dying, what's wrong with me? I hear Slade's footsteps stop and then carry on, __thank God__. _

_**No! Not gonna die tonight, we're gonna fight for us together!**_

_I force myself to climb the dumpster and up onto the flat metal grate of the fire escape above. __Again, I have that leg strength thanks to Slade. I pull my jacket back on, teeth chattering, sucking air in as tears spring to my eyes. I feel like all the skin has been peeled off my back, torturously slowly. __I lay down on it and try to breathe, but the cold metal just brings me back to my father. __My father and his belt. My father and his gun. My father and his duct tape. My father and his basement. My father and his anger. My father and his booze. My father and his idea of discipline. __My legs start going numb and I curl up, holding my coat closed tight… I can't get frostbite. I have bigger problems. __Bigger problems like passing out in a random alley in the middle of a snowstorm. __My head pounds and I feel nauseous, I feel like someone clobbered me over the head with a baseball bat, but I __know Slade didn't have one. __"Your fault. Your fault. Weak. Pathetic." I feel his breath in my ear. "I'm sorry," I whisper before the world around me goes dark. _

_**No, we're not gonna die tonight!**_

A/N: I myself have anxiety and panic disorder and I can tell you first hand that this is exactly what a panic attack feels like, at least for me. From the hallucinations to the inability to breathe to the overall panic, this is what it's like. It's hard to put into words, but they suck. I hope I conveyed how they feel well enough for you to understand.

A/N: Slade isn't supposed to be a wrestler or anything. He's an OC.

A/N: Next chapter is the big reveal!

Reviews?


	25. Chapter 25: Lost In You

Chapter 25: Lost In You

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, (in this and later chapters) smut, (in later chapters), non-con/rape (in earlier and later chapters).  
SONG: LOST IN YOU BY THREE DAYS GRACE

_**I always knew that you'd come back to get me,**_

"Dean. Dean! _**Dean, wake up!**_ Tell me you're okay, please be okay."

My head feels like someone played basketball with it. I hope to God it's Seth, it must be Seth. My eyelids fly open at his voice, I knew he'd come. My head in his lap, I crane my neck to look at him. I can see relief set in his features, and then he smiles. God, that smile. He makes everything okay again.

_**and you always knew that it wouldn't be easy,**_

_My first thought when I meet him is that I could stare in his eyes for the rest of my life. Eyes are always the first thing I look at when I meet someone. The second is that I hope to God he's gay. __I think of the way my stomach flutters when I see him, and I remember Dad. Maybe this is what he meant. It sure feels right. But he'll never go for me. Still, what if Dad was talking about him? What if he __**is**_ _the one? _

_**to go back to the start to see where it all began,**_

_The day after I'd ran away from my father and into the world with nothing but the clothes on my back was when I saw my first wrestling match through the window of a bar. I decided right then and there that wrestling was the only chance I had at making a bearable life for myself. Hitchhiking and stealing food for what I figured was a month or two got me to __Dad. Cody Hawk, my trainer, really took me under his wing. He was in the ring with me every day. We'd never call anything. Not even the finish, back in the good ol' HWA days. He went 60 minutes, plus overtime, with me for the first and only time in my career. He was the closest thing I've ever had to a father figure. _

_**or end up at the bottom to watch how it all ends.**_

_I never told him, but I think he had an inkling of what happened between my birth father and me. He was frighteningly intuitive. There were times I thought he was a mind reader. __At 16 he wouldn't train me but I sold stuff for him until he would. It went from there. _

_**You tried to lie and say I was everything,**_

_Over my years in Dad's HWA, he found out all my secrets without me speaking a word about them._ _I adapted my shitty childhood into a similar story and became real good at talking. __I knew that'd be my ticket to getting to The Show. They always look for mic workers up in McMahon land. And I figured if I was gonna devote my life to this business, I wouldn't let myself settle for being any less than as good as I possibly can be. _

_**I remember when I said I'm nothing without you,**_

_Give it ten years and I'm at WWE's doorstep._ _Where I swore I'd make it to, even if it took the rest of my life. The day I left, when I said goodbye to Cody, I learned just_ how much _he knew. "Hey kid," he had said when I turned to leave. _

_**I'm nothing without you.**_

_"Yeah?"_

_**Somehow I found a way to get lost in you,**_

_"Do you have any idea how much you've accomplished?"_

_**let me inside, let me get close to you.**_

_"You mean wrestling? I do alright. Promos got crazy better, if I do say so myself."_

_**Change your mind, or get lost if you want me to.**_

_"That's not what I'm talking about, and we both know it." _

_**Somehow I found a way to get lost in you.**_

_"I have __no_ _idea_ _what you're talking about. Did someone hit you with a chair a little too hard?" He gives me a knowing look. _

_"I'm not stupid, Jon. There's a reason why you call me Dad. There's a reason why you flinch when I ask you to come down to the basement to talk over a match or contract negotiations. There's a reason you never talk about your childhood, outside of kayfabe."_

_**You always thought that I left myself open,**_

_"Ever. You shrink back into that quiet sixteen year old kid who showed up asking to be trained, any time anyone talks about their old man. And there is __definitely_ _a reason I find you alone behind the building in a catatonic state, screaming your head off or sobbing, with that lost, vacant look in your eyes that tells me your mind isn't where your body is. You don't hear my voice, and it kills me to see you act that way because I love you like you're my own son."_

_**but you didn't know I was already broken. **_

_"And I know you're one tough son of a bitch, and I can only imagine what it was he did to you to make you that afraid. But I know exactly why you do all those things, why you seem okay for so long and then break down quietly, every once in a while, trying not to draw attention when you do it. I knew when you got here that you'd be different, and I was right. You just don't think the way most people do. You're so bright, you learn shit so fast. Nothing about you is normal. Nothing about you conforms. That sort of attitude is always sparked by something."_

_**I told myself that it wouldn't be so bad,**_

_"I'm not here to talk to you about that though, because I'm sure you don't want to. You're never much for opening up, and I don't want you reliving that. I don't want you in pain. Physical, I know you can handle, but mental is a different animal. I know you're confused about your feelings, but trust me, son. You'll find yours in WWE, in fact I think I know who it'll be, and you'll get past what your dad did to you. Everything will work itself out. He'll help you get through it, better than I could. Stay strong. I love you like you're my own, and you will do great things."_

_**but pulling away, it took everything I had.**_

_I hug him with tears in my eyes. _

_"Thank you, Dad. For every single thing you've done for me. I never would've made it this far without you."_

_I owe anything and everything I have to wrestling._ _This world wanted nothing to do with me. Had it not been for wrestling I'd be dead in an alley, and my dad wouldn't care. I'm sure he's happy to be rid of me. _

_**You tried to lie and say I was everything,**_

_He'll never know I actually made something of myself, despite his best attempt to run me into a ground as a defenseless kid. _

_**I remember when I said I'm nothing without you. **_

_And I really don't care. I could give a fuck what he thinks about me now, I've finally become my own person. He'd probably tell me that after all these years, I still haven't learned anything. That I haven't learned when to sit down and shut up. But the thing is, he'd be wrong. I've learned __**everything**__. And I've had to learn it __on_ _my_ _own__. _

_**I'm nothing without you.**_

_The moment I walk into their training place is the first time I see him. __I'd heard everyone swear up and down about Tyler Black this and Tyler Black that. I figured he was all hype, they almost always are. But I could tell the moment I saw him enter the ring that he was the real deal. _

_**Somehow I found a way to get lost in you,**_

_He had an air of confidence about him, like he knew how good he was but yet not so annoyingly conceited that he had to tell everyone about it. _

_**let me inside, let me get close to you.**_

_He let his work speak for itself, the way it _should _be. It was so refreshing to meet someone who didn't adhere to the soul crushing status quo of indy wrestling. _

_**Change your mind, or get lost if you want me to.**_

_The "I'm better than you" mentality, and no one is satisfied until they prove it. _

_**Somehow I found a way to get lost in you. **_

_Sometime between Hawk and now I figured out that I'm gay. It's not a secret, but I don't really talk about it much. I get to __have a conversation with __him and he's so fantastic, he really deserves better than me. __At first glance, with how pretty he was, I figured he was a slut. I figured everyone wanted a piece of that sweet ass, and I figured he gave it to them. But as I got to know him, I realized that he just wasn't like that. Guys hit on him, but he kept it professional with everyone. Everyone except me. _

_**The pain of it all,**_

_He's like me in a way. _

_**the rise and the fall,**_

_He's sick of everyone trying to use him, and he's actually looking for an emotionally invested relationship. Imagine that. _

_**I see it all in you.**_

_See, ever since my dad, I haven't really known what it was like to love or be loved, in a romantic way. I didn't know what I was looking for. But as time went on I realized he was everything I didn't even know I wanted. _

_**Now everyday,**_

_It wasn't long before I fell for him, and for __**him**__, not his looks. _

_**I find myself saying,**_

_He was kind, sweet, funny, compassionate, smart, creative, he was perfect in my eyes. _

_**I want to get lost in you. **_

_After a year or two in FPW and NXT, they tell us they're_ _bringing us up and __putting us in a stable together along with some guy they call Roman Reigns, who I've seen around but don't really know. __They were gonna call us "the Shield". _

_**I'm nothing without you. **_

_I thought the gimmick was cool but it was a little "out there" and I didn't know if it'd stick. Thought there'd be a pretty good chance that I'd be back in developmental in 6 months. We were only coming in as Punk's heaters after all, and he's a master heel on his own. Boy, was I wrong. __I figure this is my one chance._ _To get him alone, and to come clean to him. So the night we make our debut, I tell him to meet me behind the building after the match. "Am I in trouble?" He asked, grinning. _

_"You might be." I punched his shoulder playfully. This flirting had been going on between us for months now. At least, it comes off as flirting to me. And that's the problem. By taking this risk, I could lose my best friend. If I'm reading all the signals wrong, and I could be, considering this is my first serious attempt at a relationship, I'll send him packing by revealing my feelings. Which means I'd be in for what I'm sure will be over a year of awkward moments when we're wrestling or in the locker room and he gets freaked out because I'm gay and head over heels in love with him. _

_"You gonna punish me?"_

_There it is again. Punishing Seth? Oh, what I wouldn't give. I can't take this teasing any longer. Tonight I'm risking it all, and I __**will**_ _find out his position in all of this. "Guess you'll have to wait to find that answer out, smart guy."_

_**Somehow I found a way to get lost in you,**_

_I __finally_ _get_ _him alone after the show. He's hot, sweaty and I am too, but he's never looked better to me. __I didn't even give him a chance to get changed. He'd protested, but I told him that there'd be time for that later, and that this was more important. My stomach backflips as the moment of truth is upon me. _

_**let me inside, **_

_"I don't fucking have a clue how to—" he pushes me hard against the wall as I freeze in shock. He slams my shoulders back, pinning me down. _

_**let me get close to you.**_

_"Yeah, I see the way you look at me, Dean. I know what you think in that twisted head of yours. You're so damn clueless, you know that?" I try to push him off me but he forces all his weight against me. "Don't try to fucking run away from me, Ambrose. Do you honestly think I look at you that way? Do you honestly think that's what I want?" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

_**Change your mind,**_

_"Do you have the slightest clue how __**I**_ _feel about __**you**__?" I'm so screwed. _

_"Seth—"_

_"No." He rams his hip into mine and growls in my face. "You don't have a clue, do you?" I open my mouth to protest and he releases one of my shoulders to punch me in the face. He returns the hand to my shoulder as I spit blood out to the side, fighting hard not to get turned on by this. _

_**or get lost if you want me to. **_

_"Come on, Seth. We both know you can hit harder than that." His eyes cloud over. _

_"You do not want to push me right now. Let me spell this out for you." Without warning, he slams his mouth against mine, my body going slack against him in pure ecstasy. How is this happening?_

_"I can read you like a book, always could. Been waiting for this moment. I love you too." He gasps out, holding his forehead to mine. I can feel my eyes widen as his words set in with me. I guess I never thought he'd actually feel the same way. I mean, I'm a fuck up, plain and simple. What does he see in me? _

_"You crazy motherfucker. You almost gave me a heart attack." _

_**Somehow I found a way to get lost in you.**_

_He smiles. "Don't look so surprised. You second guess yourself too much, Dean. I see the way you look at me, like I said, but you have never noticed the way I look at you." He leans his mouth in next to my ear. "And I don't look at you the way you look at me. Because when you look at me you know you want me, but you think I don't want you, so you hold yourself back. But I __**know**_ _I __need_ _you, and I know you __need_ _me, whether you realize it or not. So I'm fucking desperate. That's how I look at you. I am fucking desperate to have you. Have what we both want. Find a way to get you to want me. And you want me, don't you, Dean?"_

_"Fuck, yeah. Yeah, I do."_

_"Then you've got me. That's all there us to it." He kisses me again and my heart skips a beat. __One thing has finally gone right in my fucked up life. _

_**A way to get lost in you.**_

A/N: AGH AMBROLLINS IT'S SO PERFECT I SHIP IT I SHIP IT SO HARD

A/N: I stayed up super late to finish this, it's like 3am. But I figured I left you on enough cliffhangers, and this one was kind of important, you know, cause I'm revealing the identity of a major character. I hope you liked it!

A/N: So tell me, did you see that coming? And does it all make sense now? I'm hoping you had a nice, satisfying "aha moment".

Reviews?


	26. Chapter 26: Time Of Dying

Chapter 26: Time of Dying  
Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash (in this, earlier and later chapters), smut, (in later chapters), non-con/rape (in earlier chapters and later chapters).  
SONG: TIME OF DYING BY THREE DAYS GRACE

_**I will not die… **_

"Why are you out here having panic attacks in a random ass alley?"

_**I will survive…**_

_"Pathetic!" _

_It was something Seth said as part of some trash we were talking to Ryback. Or was it John Cena? I can't remember. Which is weird. I normally have a good memory. Me and Seth are leaving our rental for the hotel after the show, and I start feeling dizzy. The word echoes in my head. I see it when I close my eyes. My dad. Oh God, not this again. The ground is frozen and I'm off balance and I can tell I'm going to fall. _

_"Seth," I call, but it's slurred and wrong and my head hits the ground. _

_**On the ground I lay, motionless in pain. **_

_I can feel myself fall down my basement steps again, except they never end. I try to get up but it's not going well and I moan, hoping I've gotten Seth's attention. _

_**I can see my life flashing before my eyes.**_

_I hear his voice but no words as I scream, not really meaning to, and I can feel Seth's hands on me, pulling me up, but I can still see my dad. __"Please don't hurt me." I beg him. Seth shakes my shoulders, my view of him is blurry. _

_"I won't." I hear him mumble. __I know he's there, I'm trying to walk in his direction, but that word is still ringing in my ears. _

_**Did I fall asleep? **_

_He half drags me into the hotel, I think in an elevator, I think in a room and he lays me on a bed. _

_**Is this all a dream?**_

_I'm putting all my energy into __trying to stay conscious. "Pathetic," I mutter. _

_**Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare.**_

_I can hear Seth's voice, and it's getting clearer what he's saying. _

_"Dean! Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real. I'm real. I'm right here. It's Seth. Focus on my voice. __Whatever your dad did, he can't do it anymore." _

_**I will not die, I will survive.**_

_"You're not in Cincinnati. You're safe. It's your boyfriend, Seth. I'm right here, I'm not leaving you. I don't know what's going on, but I'm right here."_ _I feel like someone is kicking me, repeatedly, and I see Tall and Strong and my dad and I scream, loud and hard, without meaning to. _

_**I will not die, I'll wait here for you. **_

_I feel someone draw me into their body and clasp a hand over my mouth. I fight hard against it. _

_"Get away! Get away from me! You sick fucking bastard, stop touching me!" Eventually it just becomes unidentifiable nonsense that I scream at the top of my lungs. _

_**I feel alive when you're beside me. **_

_He runs his other hand through my hair and holds me tightly. _

_"Shh. I'm here, I'm right here." I can't figure out whether to be threatened or not. I can still see the basement, feel the fear, smell the blood._

_**I will not die, I'll wait here for you, in my time of dying.**_

_I scream myself hoarse until I can only whimper and shake under his hand. Hot tears run down my cheeks. _

_"Dad, no." I sob quietly. _

_"Baby it's Seth. It's not your dad." _Huh?

_"Seth, you have to get out of here before he finds you." My dad's gone, but I know better. He's around here somewhere, and I can't have Seth getting hurt for me._

_**On this bed I lay, losing everything, I can see my life passing me by.**_

_"He isn't here. He never was." _

_"No. If he finds out I'm gay, he'll kill me." I mumble. _

_"He won't find out anything, because he's not here." _

_**Was it all too much? Or just not enough? Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare.**_

_I shake my head hard a couple times and blink my eyes until all I see is the hotel room. __The dark brown walls and the black carpet, and Seth. Seth and his soft hair, and his warm smile, and his beautiful eyes. How is it that he can fix everything? _

_**I will not die, I will survive.**_

_I take a shaky breath and pull on my hair, as a test, to make sure I still feel the pain. Okay. I think I'm here. __I relax and peel his hand off my mouth, resting my head against him._ _"Are you good?"_

_"I think so."_

_"The fuck was that?"_

_"Panic attack."_

_"What did your dad do?" I wince and tense up. I feel like shit keeping this from him, but I can't deal with it right now._

_**I will not die, I'll wait here for you. **_

_"I really don't want to talk about it."_

_"Okay, we don't need to talk about it. We don't need to talk about it ever if that's what you want." He rubs my back gently. _

_"I'm sorry." I tell him, holding on to him tightly._

_"For what?" He asks incredulously. _

_"I'm damaged. Anyone who's ever gotten close to me has ended up getting hurt."_

_**I feel alive when you're beside me. **_

_"You're not damaged."_

_"You don't know the half of it."_

_"Don't think on it, babe." I get up to look him in the eye. _

_"I have panic disorder. I get panic attacks, because I'm a fuck up. __I've never stayed conscious all the way through one, though."_

_"You damn near gave me a heart attack," he smiles, pushing my shoulder lightly. _

_"You're the only one who's ever helped me handle it though. Thanks."_

_"Anything for you." He kisses me, and I thank God one more time for Seth Rollins, Tyler Black, Colby Lopez, whatever you want to call him, he's mine and that's one thing __I'm actually lucky for in this train wreck life of mine. _

_**I will not die, **_

Uhhh. I can't tell him. That sucks too, cause I'm sure he'd find a way to make it better. I have to come up with a story, one that he'll buy without asking questions. One that explains why I was out at 4am.

"What time is it?" I groan, I'm still groggy. Recent events weigh me down like an anchor. I want nothing more than to spill my guts to Seth. But Hunter's threat rings in my ears. I can't.

"It's like 9. Dean, are you keeping something from me?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Why were you out here, blacking out? You must've been out since at least 5, that's when you called. You damn near gave me a heart attack! I thought I lost you, Dean. I thought I lost you. What's going on?" _Almost gave me a heart attack. Seems like I just heard that._ He speaks softly, he's not angry. He hardly ever gets angry with me. Just confused. I am too, Seth.

"Uhh, I took a walk, couldn't sleep. I was walking down the street and I had a flashback. I thought I could handle it so I ducked into this alley. But it got out of hand so I called you. I blacked out, full blown attack. Dear old Dad. Burn in hell." I spit it out. I hate the bastard. _You're about to become just like him. _Fuck it. What's wrong with me?

"Are you telling me the truth?" He's apprehensive.

"Of course, babe." I feel like shit lying to him. It's a shitty lie too. I don't think he buys it, but he's desperate for an explanation that doesn't end with me getting hurt.

_**I'll wait here for you,**_

"Well next time just wake me up if you can't sleep, okay? If I hadn't picked up you'd be out here, passed out, alone. Don't freak me out like that. I love you."

"I love you too. I'm sorry." He leans down and lifts me to a sitting position. I grab his shoulder and kiss him softly, sweetly, and he kisses back slightly harder. I moan against him, then laugh and pull back. "Not here. If I am to perform unspeakable acts on you, you'll be the only one to ever witness it. Not a random passerby. I want you alone." He grins and I melt a little inside.

"As you wish." Seth grabs my hand and leads me back toward the hotel. I pray silently that my meeting with Hunter was a nightmare, but deep down I know it wasn't.

_**in my time of dying.**_

A/N: We're more than halfway there, guys! 25 more chapters to go!

Reviews?


	27. Chapter 27: War Of Change

Chapter 26: War Of Change

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in later chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (this chapter and later chapters)

SONG: WAR OF CHANGE BY THOUSAND FOOT KRUTCH

_**It's a truth that in love and war, worlds collide and hearts get broken.**_

The alley I passed out in is only a couple blocks from our hotel. I know that Seth, Punk and I aren't scheduled until Raw next week, so he and I are chilling in LA for a couple days. I figured Punk was too, but now I fear that he's probably already at the location Hunter gave me. Then I get to thinking. _How long has he kept him there? What is Hunter doing to him? What if he got him Sunday night and he's been at that place for 3 days now? It's Wednesday! Hunter wants me to break him, shatter him. How far will he go to get that? If he wants him raped, I fear he'll go as far as it'll take. __He always seems to get what he wants in the end. __What made Hunter snap? This is insane! Why does he want __me __to do it? I'm sure Punk's putting up a hell of a fight. I figure he's pissing Hunter off, he probably wants to shut Punk up. Oh God, this is completely nuts! These are people I've worked with for years! What if Hunter isn't doing this alone? _I have to slow my thoughts down, this nutso bullshit is making my panic disorder act up like crazy.

_**I want to live like I know I'm dying, take up my cross, not be afraid.**_

I can feel my breathing speed up and I force myself to relax, if I get anymore upset Seth will notice. If Seth picks up on it, I don't have a story, I can't justify freaking out walking down a normal ass road. I have to forget about this for a while, if that's possible. I need to think of an excuse to give Seth as to why I have to leave from two until God-knows-when. _Forget about it. Breathe. It doesn't have to happen yet. Enjoy what time you have before you feel like absolute shit, probably for the rest of your life. _

_**Is it true what they say, that words are weapons?**_

_Fuck you, dad. I swear to God, I'm all messed up because of you, you sick fuck. _

_**And if it is,then everybody best stop steppin'.**_

We get in the doors and I start looking for things to ground me. I have Seth's hand. We're on the third floor, room 354. Elevator, push the button. Walk out, find the room, 354. Okay. I'm here. Seth pulls me onto the king sized bed and smiles, it surprises me how quickly my mind blanks when I see his warm brown eyes.

_**Cause I got ten in my pocket that'll bend ya locket,**_

I can fall in love with him all over again just looking in his eyes. I push him over so I'm on top of him, and I stare right into those gorgeous eyes for a couple seconds, mesmerized.

_**I'm tired of all these rockers sayin' come with me. **_

_I'm on our hotel bed with him 2 months into our relationship. It's been a whirlwind and I honestly love every fucking second of it. Even when we fight. I love it. He's on top of me, we're making out and we're both shirtless—then he goes for my pants and I push him off without really meaning to. _

_**Wait, it's just about to break, **_

_Instinct sends me as far away from him on the bed as I can get. _

_**it's more than I can take.**_

_I can see the hurt clear __as day _ _in his eyes and it punches me straight in the gut. "What? Too soon?" He whispers, confused. _

_**Everything's about to change. **_

_His eyebrows knit together as he pulls lightly on his dark brown hair. He's blaming himself for this, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. It's my dad's fault, and it's mine, because I love him and I should've told him earlier. _

_**I feel it in my veins, its not going away.**_

_I can feel those broken ribs again like a ghost and I take a deep breath, pulling my knees up to my chest. I put my back against the headboard and pat the bed next to me,_ _closing my eyes and taking a deep breath__. _

_**Everything's about to change. **_

_He cautiously places himself close to me but not touching me. I put my head in my hands. _

_"It's got nothing to do with you. __Believe me, I want to. Really bad. But I can't."_

_"Then what is it?" He pushes quietly. I lean my head against his shoulder as an invitation for him to get closer. When I feel his warm body against mine, a sense of relative safety reaches me and I decide it's time I told him. _

_"It's my dad."_

_"What? Does he not know you're gay? I've never heard you talk about him. __At least, not while you're awake."_

_**It creeps in like a thief in the night, without a sign, without a warning.**_

_"That's not it. There's a reason why I __don't mention __him. __You know when I have panic attacks?"_

_"Of course I do." _

_"I get them because of him. The first time you saw me have one, I said a bunch of stuff about him during it, and you asked me about it after. I told you I didn't want to talk about it, and you dropped it. I know you've heard me have the nightmares and attacks when I say his name and get all freaked out, but you've never spoke another word about him to me. I should've come clean that first night, when you first asked me. This never should've gone on for so long. I'm sorry. I should've told you, but I was so happy to have you, and I figured I come off as enough of a freak as it is. I didn't want to scare you away. My dad is the reason why I am the way I am. In a lot of ways, because of him, and a lot of ways, in spite of him."_

_**But we are ready and prepared to fight.**_

_"__My parents never gave a damn about me. __My mom left when I was eight. __My dad's beaten me for as long as I can remember. It was never a huge deal to me. I figured it was normal, especially since he drank so much. It got worse. __It escalated, quickly. __He broke __my ankle __at one point and __dislocated_ _my shoulder once or twice. I don't know, I got so many concussions that some parts are a blur."_

_**Raise up your swords, don't be afraid. **_

_"But I'm sure the bones didn't heal the right way cause they never took me to the doctor. I didn't get my vaccinations until I was 21 and that was because I couldn't afford them __for myself __until then. I slept on the floor. Our house didn't have __reliable __heating, __it worked maybe 20% of the time__. All that shit bothered me, but it was tolerable. That kind of changed when I was twelve. My old man got real drunk and real angry one night and, as usual, took it out on me."_

_**Is it true what they say, that words are weapons?**_

_"But this time was different, __I could tell from the beginning because I hid in the closet, and he came and found me. He'd never try very hard to find me. He'd give up if he couldn't do it relatively quickly, and go break shit or something. Then two strangers came, and I knew at that point I was screwed."_

_**And if it is,then everybody best stop steppin'. **_

_"They threw around some insults and they threw me around, one of the guys broke some of my ribs. But then I got kicked down the basement stairs and it was obvious that this wasn't going to be like the other times." __Seth has this weird look on his face, somewhere between horrified and shocked and confused. _

_"I never knew."_

_"That's because I never told you."_

_"Dean, you don't have—"_

_"Yes, I do. So I was never allowed in the basement. Probably because it would've been a good place for me to hide from him. Or maybe since it would've been a warmer place to sleep. There really wasn't much to it. I remember ending up in the middle of the room, on my stomach with his knee in my back. _

_**Cause I got ten in my pocket that'll bend ya locket, I'm tired of all these rockers sayin' come with me. **_

_They __had yelled at me to shut up a handful of times and I said 'fuck you __guys__'. But then he said something like 'that's where you're wrong, it's not fuck __**us**__, it's fuck __**you**__.'"_

_"Dean—"_

_"Seth, trust me, I __**have**_ _to __tell you __this. __You are my boyfriend, I care about you and you deserve to know the truth about why I am the way I am. I don't want to hurt you anymore. The whole thing put the kind of mental scar on me that I can remember everything in excruciating detail."_

_**Wait, it's just about to break,**_

_"They were all on me, I never stood a chance. Someone took my shirt, and someone else duct taped my hands behind my back."_

_**it's more than I can take.**_

_"I was dragged up on my knees. One of them told me to open my mouth. _

_**Everything's about to change.**_

_Being twelve, I didn't exactly know what it was he wanted with my mouth. _

_**I feel it in my veins, it's not going away. **_

_He punched me and demanded that I do what he said. As you can imagine," Seth grabs my leg and wraps his arm around me, pulling my head onto his shoulder. _

_**Everything's about to change. **_

_He gives it a soft squeeze. Seth has a way of speaking volumes without saying a word. He's telling me that it's okay to stop, but that he's here if I want to keep going. I rest my head in the junction of his shoulder and take a breath. "He stuck his cock down my throat. A different guy held me by my hair. He said I'd be sorry if I didn't keep my teeth off. It was almost impossible to do though, because my mouth wouldn't stretch that far. He," I heasitate, "called me a whore. He came all over my face and made me swallow it."_

_**This is a warning, like it or not.**_

_"Right away, I was shoved down on my face as the other stranger entered my ass. Again, being twelve, I was a virgin, and it was dry." My fists clench. "__I was a virgin__. I lost my virginity to two thirty something men and my father. That's supposed to mean something! That's not something that you take from a defenseless, twelve year old boy!" Seth squeezes my arm as I try to calm myself down. _

_**I break down, like a record spinning, gotta get up.**_

_"Sorry… He said I was a slut, taking it in both holes before I got to high school. Said with how pretty and vulnerable I was, my virginity wouldn't have lasted much longer. The guy kissed me, like tongue, the whole deal. So all my screams just got swallowed up by his mouth. This was the guy who broke my ribs. When he finally broke the kiss, he started punching me in the ribs he shattered in time with the snaps of his hips. I screamed my lungs out, but it fell on deaf ears."_

_**So back off, this is a warning, like it or not.**_

_"He __told me that no one was coming to save me._ _He came, grunting out something gross about me having a tight ass. Then my father told them to leave. They thanked him for a 'great time' and said I was a hell of a good fuck while I cried quietly. And they left me alone with him. All I wanted was for him to go sleep his buzz off, and then give me an insincere apology the next day, the way he always did. But that's not at all what happened, and moving forward he'd never apologize for another thing he did to me."_

_**I'm tired of listening', I'm warning you, don't try and get up.**_

_"Then he raped me. At that point I remember a lot of pain and a lot of blood and not being able to breathe. And screaming. Screaming like I hadn't ever heard myself scream before. I sobbed and begged while he __laughed__. He said some stuff that haunted me for a long, long time. He said, "This is your fault. You __**made**_ _me do this. You're a filthy, pathetic excuse. I'm ashamed to call you my son. You deserve this. Every last motherfucking second. You deserve it. Weak." __And I said I was __sorry__. I apologized that I "made" my father rape me. I apologized!_ _He said it was too late for that._ _He came, __then he pulled out and left me tied up. He told me to figure it out for myself._ _That wasn't the only time he did it. Not even close. __Sometimes it was gang rape, if I did something that made him mad, like slipping up and saying something disrespectful, or if anyone ever came to him with the slightest inkling of what he was doing to me. Like that was my fault. Other times it'd just be him, when he was really drunk, or horny, or both. __The next three years were __my own private hell__, and throughout that time I believed all that stuff he said. He'd kick me out a lot and I'd end up in the streets, where I got beat up __by a kid four years older than me named Slade, and his pack of wild dogs__. Three days after the very last time he'd ever rape me, on my 16th birthday, I took the coat I found in a dumpster, some old jeans and __a pair of __boots full of holes and I ran away. __I just want my family back, dammit! I want my family back from when I was seven, before my mom left and before my dad laid a hand on me. I want the family that loved me and supported me. I want the family where I didn't have to be afraid of my own father. Did that ever even exist?!__"_

_**There's a war going on inside of me. **_

_I didn't realize it while I was talking but I've been crying, almost hysterically, for a long time. Seth just holds me against his chest and strokes my hair until I calm down. _

_"I'm so sorry babe," he whispers in my ear. "Shh, you know, none of that was your fault. He can't hurt you anymore. Shh, it's okay." _

_"Why did he do it then?" I sob quietly. _

_"Because he's sick. __Dean, baby__, this is his fault. He's your dad, you're supposed to be able to trust him."_

_"Trust. I don't have so much of that anymore." _

_"You can trust me."_

_"I'm really trying to. I really am. I really want to. But you have to understand how hard it is."_

_"I do. Shh, I'm here, it's okay," __I can feel him breathe against me, the thump of his heartbeat. __I try to take deeper breaths and remind myself that Seth is right. __He usually is._ _"He doesn't have power over you anymore, okay?"_

_"You're right," I whisper. "You're the only one who knows. You realize that you and wrestling are all I have left, right? The first time I met you I knew I wanted you, __more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. But I never thought you'd fall for a fuck-up like me. You're my first serious relationship, I've been so afraid of getting close to someone, letting them in. And all anyone ever wanted from me was sex, and I just couldn't. I couldn't do it, and I wouldn't explain why. You're the first person in my life to ever give two shits about me__. I need you, more than you know." I'm a little surprised at myself. I never really open up to people. But it's Seth. He's different. _

_"I need you too. __You aren't a fuck-up, you're an amazing person, even more amazing considering everything you've been through. I'm here, I'm not leaving you, I'll be here to hold your hand and dry your tears and remind you how important you are to me, for as long as you want me to stay. You're not his, you're not theirs, you aren't a scared, lonely little kid anymore. Now you're mine, and I will personally assure that you never feel the way you did then, ever again. Nothing is coming in this life that you and I cannot handle together. __Take your time, Dean. I'll wait until you're ready. I'm not pushing sex, don't feel pressured. If you never want to __go there__, I'm fine with that. Whatever you need. I love you for you. __As long as you keep being the Dean Ambrose I know and love, my baby, that's all that matters."_ _Damn. How did Jonathan Good, that scrawny kid from the projects whose Dad has fucked him more times than he's fed him, land a guy who actually cares? Land a guy as perfect for me as Seth? I wonder if Seth knows how important he is. I wonder if it ever occurred to him that I want him to stay forever._

_"I love you too, Seth."_

_"And Dean?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"You're not a freak."_

_"I'm not normal either."_

_"That's one of the many things I love about you. Normal is boring. I don't like people that make me feel more uncomfortable than I already am in my own skin."_

_"It's like you read my mind."_

But then the thing I feared punches me right in the gut. Hunter. Punk. Rape. It takes all my will not to show Seth any signs of panic, but I roll off of him and get up, raking a hand through my hair. At that point I have a sudden realization: I know how to stop this.

_**There's a war going on inside of me. **_

A/N: Thank you to rollinsforever for reviewing like every chapter of mine. I'm so glad you like my work!

Reviews?


	28. Chapter 28: Iris

Chapter 27: Iris

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (THIS CHAPTER) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: IRIS BY THE GOO GOO DOLLS

A/N: ANGIE: IF YOU'RE STILL READING BY NOW-BRACE YOURSELF. IT GETS DIRTY HERE.

_**And I'd give up forever to touch you, **_

I have a plan.

And it might just be crazy enough to work. Seth follows me up, looking concerned. "You just went away on me. What are you seeing? What's up? What's bothering you?" I can tell I'm making him nervous. He grabs my shoulder so I'm looking into those eyes again. "Dean, **what** is up with you? You know you can tell me."

_We'd been together almost five months, and I'd thought about it every day of that time span, and today I have finally decided that I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I am ready. I don't know how to tell him. I want it to happen naturally, but I made it very clear to him a couple months ago that I was not ready, and I think he's prepared for me to never be ready. The biggest thing for me was the moments that would be like the basement. If I suck him off, or if I bottom, I'm worried I'll lapse into a flashback and ruin the whole thing._

_**cause I know that you feel me somehow.**_

_This being my first consensual time, I want it to go right. I want it to replace the horrific memories of my first time. It's a chilly day in March, and as our plane touches down in Cincinnati for Raw the next day, I take a deep breath. We get off and grab our luggage, and lug it to one of the rentals that WWE provides for us. As I reach for the drivers side door, I hear pounding footsteps. I turn around to see Nic running towards us. "Hey guys, can you give me a lift to my hotel? Mike was supposed to share his rental with me but he's hooking up tonight… do you mind?" I smile. _

_"Course not. You can drive."_

_"Thanks, Dean. You're a lifesaver." I pile into the backseat with Seth. As Nic pulls the car out and onto the highway, I grab his hand and hold it tightly. _

_"What's up? You seem nervous." He whispers in my ear. _Just breathe, Dean.

_"I'm ready." I lean over and whisper into his hair. _

_**You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,**_

_He turns to face me as his eyes get wide. _

_"Are you sure?"_

_"Never been more sure of anything in my life." I grip his hand tighter as Nic pulls into the parking lot of his Holiday Inn. _

_"Thanks again guys." He calls as he gets out of the car and grabs his suitcase from the trunk. We both get out, he takes the wheel and I sit in the passenger seat. Seth seems overly engrossed in something on his phone. _

_"What're you doing on there?"_

_"You'll see." He puts it down and drives us back onto the road. I can almost see the wheels turning in his head as we drive in silence. After a while I turn to him. "Where are we going?" _

_"You'll see." _

_"Is that the only response you're programmed with?_

_"You'll see."_

_"Motherfucker." I comment. He pushes my shoulder. "You gonna do something about it, smart guy?"_

_"You'll see." Damn. I love him so much. _

_**and I don't want to go home right now.**_

_I've never been much for romance and we passed up the hotel a long time ago. What's he thinking? Eventually we arrive at a bar, and my confusion deepens. "Come on." He says as he ducks out. I follow and head for the door but he pulls me to the window by my hand. "Look." I squint and suck breath in involuntarily. On the TV screen is the same wrestling match that brought me into this business. The 2001 Vengeance unification match between Austin and Jericho. It told such a story! Chris' slimy underdog victory inspired my whole character. But the match is upwards of 15 years old. Why is it in this random bar? And then I realize it isn't some random bar. _

_**And all I can taste is this moment, **_

_It's the same bar. _

_**and all I can breathe is your life.**_

_I wasn't even old enough to step into The KO Punch the last time I was here. I told Seth about it, but that was forever ago! How did he remember? _

_"I can't believe you did all this for me." He grips my hand tighter as the biting wind skews his hair across his face. _

_"Come in with me." He tugs me towards the door. I follow to find myself in a normal looking bar smelling faintly of cigarette smoke. I never got into smoking, never could afford it. They remind me too much of dad anyway. The only ones I've ever had were when I was cutting promos. We sit down and Seth buys me a beer. We watch the match quietly for a while, until he's suddenly very close to me. He whispers faintly to me, "tell me how you want this to go down." I feel my cheeks redden a little. _

_"Uhm…" a shiver runs down my spine as the reality sits down on me. _I'm actually going through with this.

_**Cause sooner or later it's over,**_

_"What do and don't you want to happen?" I take a sip of my beer and a breath. _

_"I want you to top. And this is about me facing my fears head on, so that's what I need to do. And I need to keep going even if I get freaked out." _

_**I just don't want to miss you tonight.**_

_I think I might've been the kind of guy who liked rough, nasty sex if my life had gone any other way than how it did. But the mere thought of doing that, and __**liking**_ _it… it's terrifying. _

_"Are you sure you're ready?" _

_"As ready as I'm gonna be." He gets up to go and I stop him with a hand on his thigh. "One more thing."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Why'd you bring me here?"_

_"I thought it'd be fitting that the place you went to start your first journey… to Hawk, would be the place you came to start your next one, with me." _

_**And I don't want the world to see me,**_

_"You're so sweet." He smiles. _

_"I try. Enough talk." He leads me back to the car. My heart thumps loud enough that I think he can hear it as we drive back to the hotel. I can't believe I didn't recognize this place, I grew up a couple miles from here. _

_**cause I don't think that they'd understand.**_

_But then I realize how much it's changed. _

_**When everything's made to be broken,**_

_I wonder if the law has caught up to my old man yet. _

_**I just want you to know who I am.**_

_When we get there we grab our stuff, check in and get up to the 4th level, where we throw the bags to the floor. Seth pulls me closer to him and kisses me hard, hooking a foot around my ankle and making me fall to the bed. He pins my hands above my head and takes control, pushing his tongue into my mouth. _

_**And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,**_

_I follow suit, moaning plaintively as he pulls my shirt up above my head and breaks it for a split second to get his off too. I take advantage of the separation and tangle my hands in his hair, bringing him back to me. _

_**or the moment of truth in your lies. **_

No turning back. _He begins to undo my belt buckle and the button of my jeans. This is when I freaked out the last time… but that was months ago. I can do this. He tugs them down as I lift my hips to help him, much more than necessary. He smiles. _

_"Not having any trouble enjoying ourselves, are we?" I bite my lip seductively and whimper as his hand travels inside my boxer briefs. One of his legs go between mine and push my jeans off my legs. He palms me roughly as I close my eyes. He gets me hard in minutes, and after he does he sits back on his knees. "Damn." He sighs. "You're so fucking beautiful." _

_**When everything feels like the movies,**_

_"I'm not." I moan. _

_"Don't argue with me."_

_**yeah, you'd bleed just to know you're alive!**_

_"Or?"_

_"I'm in the drivers seat. My rules." His hand leaves my cock and I whine at the loss, craning my neck to see why he left. He puts a hand on my chest and pushes me back down. "Pleasure's all mine tonight, babe." The sound of a cover popping open makes my breath come faster, but I just wait as a wet sound follows and a finger probes at my entrance. I tense up. "Relax." It pushes in and I give a small cry of pain. I try to do what he says, but I'm afraid and I can't do it. "Dean. Relax." He says firmly. His other hand returns to my cock to put me at ease while his finger starts to move inside me. It hurts, a lot, until he hits something that ignites fireworks behind my eyes. _

_**And I don't want the world to see me,**_

_My breath catches. _

_**cause I don't think that they'd understand.**_

_"Seth," I breathe. He adds a finger and starts hitting that same spot until I'm writhing underneath him. "What __**is**_ _that?"_

_"That's your prostate, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" I respond by moaning like a hooker in heat. "Yeah," he whispers as he gives my cock a few more pumps before getting up and walking to the side of the bed, where I lay convinced that I am unable to get up. He kicks his own jeans to the foot of the bed. He gives his length a few hard strokes before lifting me up off the bed, directing my arms behind his neck and my legs around his waist. I lock them instinctively as he kisses me, biting my lower lip. I kiss him back. Being with Seth, it's heaven. It's impossible not to get turned on. One of his hands stays cupped under my thigh, the other moves underneath me. I feel my whole body freeze up as he leans his head towards my ear and nibbles on my neck. "Breathe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." I feel his cock prodding at my hole and I force myself to relax. _

_"Okay." _

_"Are you ready?" _

_"Yeah." He enters me slowly as an all too familiar pain shoots up my spine. I clutch him tight to me and bury my face in his hair, screaming into his shoulder. _

_**When everything's made to be broken,**_

_I whimper as he fills me and waits. "Please just go," I beg him. _

_"You need to adjust. It's a lot of pain to handle." I bury my face in his hair. _

_"Don't worry about me handling the pain. I've had plenty of practice." _

_**I just want you to know who I am.**_

_He runs a hand through my hair. _

_"Okay."_

_He pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back in again smoothly. I begin to lapse into my basement as the splitting pain brings tears to my eyes. I squeeze my eyes tight shut and try to block the flood of memories. _

_"Fuck, it hurts so bad." I mutter under my breath. He pauses. _

_"Do you want me to stop?"_

_"No."_

_"I'll try to be gentle."_

_"__**No**__, don't."_

_"What __**do**_ _you want?" I dig my nails into his back and grimace, speaking before I consider the complications my words may cause. _

_**And I don't want the world to see me,**_

_"I want you to get this shit out. I want you to dig my dad out from under my skin and replace the emptiness with something good. Something right. It won't come out without a fight, I've been trying to for over half my life and I can't do it. I need you to rip this out of my heart no matter how much I bleed. I need you to stomp this fear flat so I can move on with my life and trust my goddamn boyfriend. I need to be able to trust the people who have proven they can be trusted. I need you to break me down to dust so I can come back whole for the first time. I need to love my boyfriend with all I have, and I can't do that until he takes the part of me that my dad owns away from him. I need you to do that. So gentle isn't gonna cut it."_

_**cause I don't think that they'd understand.**_

_"Okay," he whispers. _How does that not freak him out?

Focus on Seth. The sound of his voice. _He keeps the pace until my small cries of pain become moans and screams of his name. "Faster, harder, fuck!" Delicious pleasure takes agony's place and for the beautiful ensuing minutes my mind leaves my basement and stays with Seth. _

_**When everything's made to be broken,**_

_"Oh my god," I moan, raking my blunt fingernails down his back. My cock trapped between our stomachs creates the most amazing friction, it's like nothing I've ever experienced. It's all too much and I cum explosively all over both his abs and mine with a cry of his name. He follows not too long after inside me as he screams mine. He leans forward to set me down on the bed and pulls out carefully, breathing hard and collapsing next to me. _

_"Damn." I sigh._

_"Good?" He asks the otherwise empty room. _

_"Fucking unbelievable."_

_**I just want you to know who I am.**_

"Seth, I think you might want to sit down for this."

"Okay?" He sits cross-legged on the bed and looks at me with confusion.

"It's kind of scary. No, it's really scary. And I can't figure this out by myself, but I think if we get enough people together we might be able to stop it."

"_Stop_ _what_?"

"I'm getting to that. So I lied to you this morning, because I didn't think I had a choice. I wasn't out because I couldn't sleep, and I didn't have a flashback. I had a panic attack and I passed out, but not because of that. I was in an alley at 4 am because Hunter told me to meet him there, and it wasn't a request, it was a threat. I was supposed to come alone. Seth, this is bad stuff." I sit down next to him and he turns sideways to face me. I don't want to end up collapsing because of this shit. "So he tells me I have a choice. The first option he gave me was that he would bury you, do irreparable damage to your career, ruin your dream. Naturally I said I wouldn't pick that. But get this—this other option is where it gets fucked up. He wants me to **rape **CM Punk."

_**I just want you to know who I am.**_

Seth kind of turns white at that.

"Rape?" He whispers.

"Yeah, I know. So at first I try to reason with him that you'd understand, and you wouldn't want me to pick your career over raping someone."

"And I would."

"But then it gets worse. He tells me he has means to 'annihilate him', a thousand times worse than I would. And he tells me that Punk's not exactly 'one hundred percent'. You know what that means?"

"What?"

"He's keeping Punk somewhere. He's hurt him already. I don't know where, I don't know why, but Hunter wants to hurt him in the worst possible way. He said he might kill him if I didn't do it." I fish the picture out of my pocket and hand it to him, raking my hands through my hair. He raises his eyebrows and looks at me incredulously.

"Wha…"

"I have no idea."

"Does he know about your dad?"

"He does now."

"You told him?"

"He manipulated me into telling him. He had to have known already. He asked all the right questions, pushed all the right buttons. I don't know how he knew, but he also said he knew that I top, and I have no earthly idea how he'd know that. He knew it all. He knew I was scared to go all the way, I started out bottoming, I top now, all of it. It was so scary, Seth."

_**I just want you to know who I am.**_

"He knew _what_?!"

"I know. He's a sick fucking bastard. He said if I told you, the deal was off, he'd bury you and smear Punk across a wall, possibly even take his life. At first I got really pissed and got up in his face, but he ended up pushing me down and then I realized there was nothing I could do, that getting mad wouldn't make him change his mind. I really freaked out cause I felt completely hopeless. I couldn't think of anything I could do to solve it, like I didn't have any alternative. The last thing I wanted to do was rape Punk. Rape _anyone_. I was going to end up just like my dad. The last thing I ever wanted was to end up like that filthy excuse for a man. I know what rape is like, it's awful, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I was certain I was going to have to do it to one of my best friends. The thought was unbearable. Hunter gave me an address and told me to go there at two in the afternoon Friday." Seth shifts so he's next to me and puts his arm around me, leaning his head on my shoulder. I keep staring at the wall as I keep talking, I think he can sense I'm on the verge of another attack. As my breath gets exceedingly faster, I do my best to get out my plan. "But I just had an idea. Hunter will never know that I told you. And I have today, tomorrow and half of Friday before I have to be there. So there's good news and there's bad news." I clench my fists, this is getting really hard. Seth holds me tighter and I take a deep breath, telling myself it's almost over. "Good news is that I might be able to save him. **We** might be able to save him. We can get some guys together and I'll go in alone, and then the rest of you can storm the place a couple minutes later and we should be able to overpower whoever is there. Bad news is, I'm going to need all of that time to get people together, and during that time Hunter will be doing God-knows-what to Punk. More bad news is, we are fucked if that plan doesn't work." By this point I'm getting dizzy and gasping for air that I can't seem to get enough of. Seth leans up off of me and places my head on his shoulder. His arm wraps tightly around my waist and the other starts stroking my hair.

"Shh. Dean, you have to calm down. We can find a way to fix this. Shh, you're not going to end up like your dad. You're not going to rape anyone. I'll help you figure it out. You're not going to have to do this alone. I will never leave you alone." Choked sobs start coming between labored gasps and I completely lose track of my train of thought, where I am, what's going on. _Oh God, _I think, _here we go again. _"Dean," his voice gets firmer, "look at me, focus on my voice." I find his eyes but I'm still freaking out, _what happens if it doesn't work, what happens if Hunter kills Punk, what happens if we can't find anyone to help, what if they overpower us, what if it's too late when we get there, what if we save Punk and he ends up broken beyond repair? _"Dean, listen to me! You have to slow your thinking down. Dean!" He turns my shoulders sideways so they're facing him. "It's not real, try to rationalize. You're having an attack, you know nothing is ever as bad as it seems it is when you have one of those. We will find a way. I will **make** a way. He's my friend too, it's not hopeless, we aren't helpless, we can do this." I start taking deeper, slower breaths and try to listen to Seth. He is right, he knows what he's talking about, I just have to think more realistically. He can fix me. He's always been the only one who could. I push everyone away, Hunter's right about that. But Seth is different. Seth is the first and only person in my life to care about me and my well being. I will do anything for him. But he'd do anything for me too. I've never experienced that before. I always fall so hard and give my all and I never get shit in return. By the time I met him, I was through loving. I only ever got hurt. But he changed me. He made me a better person. I reach out and hold onto him like he's my only hope which, in a world that's left me all alone, he is. "Listen, I know your dad is a cruel, sadistic prick and he scarred you for life. I know you hate his fucking guts. I know thinking about what he did to you or doing that to someone else sends you into panic. But you're better than that, you're better than him. He doesn't have power over you anymore and you are not going to end up like him. You will **never** end up like him. You are a smart, compassionate man and you have a conscience, which is more than I can say for your father." I lean into his shoulder and stare at the sheets below us. "You are not your dad and you never will be. So calm down. We'll get him out of there." I hold him against me and whisper brokenly into him,

"What're we going to do?" He lifts my head up and wipes tears off my face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"We're going to call people. People who love him as much as we do. Even people who don't, because everyone in this business respects him. No one wants to see something like this happen to him. We're going to use that to our advantage, because this is going to inspire fierce determination. A lot of guys already hate Triple H, and they'll be happy to have any excuse to kick his ass. Here, let's make a list, and write down what we're going to say." I take a deep breath.

"Okay."

_**I just want you to know who I am.**_

A/N: Thank you for a thousand views! I never thought I'd get to where I am today with this story. I never could've done it without you. Your amazing reviews (I'm looking at you, rollinsforever) and sweet comments are such a blessing.

A/N: My Dean is different than the way most people write him in this story. All the wrestlers are. I hope to give insight to what goes on behind those big muscles and cocky attitudes. People can't stay strong forever. So my Dean seems strong on the inside, but all his demons make him fall apart sometimes. That's in every person. We act strong all the time, but we all have our weak moments. So Dean has those, in the same way that everyone else in my story does. Jeff and Punk, and later you'll see that Nic and Matt and others have a vulnerable side, just like everyone does. Wrestlers are still mortal human beings. I try to bring that into my writing.

A/N: I have a pet peeve that I have to keep all the canon related things in my story factual. So, Vengence 2001 would've been right after Dean's actual 16th birthday, which is when he ran away and saw this match through a bar window in my story.

A/N: I literally had to keep a chart to keep track of what day it was. Please don't get as confused as I was trying to figure this out. I tried my best to simplify it.

A/N: This is my very first time writing a normal ass sex scene between two consenting parties. It was very weird and awkward for me to write (as a virgin myself) I can only hope it doesn't read that way. I learned all I know from reading other people's smut and slash. I'm sorry if it's rushed or weird. I wanted to put this in, I'm sorry if it's bad. Please be kind.

*whistles* that's a lot of author's notes. Sorry bout that.  
Reviews?


	29. Chapter 29: Riot

Chapter 29: Riot

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (earlier chapter) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters), mentions of rape or semi-con (this chapter, earlier and later chapters)

SONG: RIOT BY THREE DAYS GRACE

_If you feel so empty,_

••••

Hey. I'm Jay Reso, hopefully they haven't buried me so bad that you don't know who I am… remember? I'm that guy from E &amp; C who wasn't Edge? Christian? I hope you remember me. I like to think that maybe things aren't as bad as I perceive them as being. You be the judge. Here's a glimpse into my world.

_so used up, so let down,_

I get a call I don't recognize, and my immediate response is to hang up, like I always do. But it calls back. And then it calls back again. I figure it must be relatively important to be so persistent, so I answer it.

"Hello?" I mutter, slightly annoyed.

"Jay, it's Seth. I need your help."

"Seth _Rollins_?" I hardly know the kid. How'd he even get my number?

"Yeah. I'm sorry to bother you, but it's really important." I highly doubt that.

_If you feel so angry, so ripped off, so stepped on,_

"What is it?"

"Punk is in major trouble." I scoff.

"He's the best in the world, I'm sure he can figure it out." I snap.

"I know you don't like him, but you don't understand what I mean by trouble. He's been kidnapped, and Dean and I think he's been tortured, since Sunday night. By Hunter." Hunter. _That son of a bitch! _

_You're not the only one refusing to back down,_

The mere mention of his name sets me on fire with fury.

"Kay, I'm in. Give me the deets."

_you're not the only one, so get up!_

"That's it? You're in?"

"That's it. I'm in."

"But…"

"Would you like for me to change my mind, Rollins?"

"No, no, sorry." It's been over 10 years, and I'm still raw over the whole thing. I hate him. God, I hate him.

"Okay, give me the details. How'd you find out about it?"

"I didn't. Dean did. He met Hunter in an alley early this morning, and Hunter tried to force him to come to this god forsaken place and rape him. He threatened to bury me and kill Punk. He's helpless, Jay. We need to get him out of there." Hunter… alley… force… rape… bury… helpless… that motherfucker is trying to do it again! I'll be damned if I let what happened to me happen to anyone else. Ever.

_**Let's start a riot, a riot!**_

_I can tell he's uncomfortable. I know him like the back of my hand. _

_"What's up, Adam?"_

_"Noth—"_

_"Don't lie to me. You know I can see right through you." His eyes are sad, but afraid too. Something is seriously wrong._

_"Hunter is trying to get in my pants." He confesses. I try to press down my anger for his sake. _

_"Is it like, flirting, or a threat?"_

_"A threat."_

_"What's he threatening?"_

_"To bury me." _

_"You just retained the IC championship in a hell of a cage match, like, last week. How's he gonna bury you?"_

_"He's fucking the boss' daughter. He can do whatever he wants." That's true. _

_"I'll handle it."_

_**Let's start a riot!**_

_"Jay, you're talented, you've got a great career ahead of you. Don't fuck that up just for me."_

_"Dude, I said I'll handle it, okay?"_

_"Just don't do anything stupid."_

_"Me? Stupid? Never." I smile, but I'm filled with dread inside. Because I know what I have to do. Patting Adam's shoulder, I get up and set out to find Hunter. I wander around backstage for a while until I recognize the tell-tale sound of him yelling at someone. _

_"I don't care what it takes! Make it happen!" I walk up behind him and tap his shoulder lightly. He decides to turn his fury on me. "The fuck do you want, Jay?"_

_**Let's start a riot, a riot!**_

_"Can we talk in private?" My heart beats a little faster and my palms get sweaty. I hate being around him when he's like this. _

_"Sure, it's not like I have anything else better to fucking do!" _

_"I'm sorry. It's important."_

_"I doubt that." I walk out the nearby door into the frozen air that bites through my fishnet tank top. He follows me closely, and closes the door behind him. "I knew you'd come save the day. I don't even have to ask. You're here about Copeland."_

_**Let's start a riot!**_

_"Yeah. I'd like for you to leave him alone."_

_"Yeah, I'd like for a lot of things to happen, that doesn't mean they will." I sigh and swallow my pride. _

_"Please."_

_"I want a piece of that sweet ass of his. I don't think anything you say will change that."_

_"What if I take his place?" He smirks._

_**If you feel so filthy,**_

_"So you're essentially telling me you're going to whore yourself out to me?" _

_**so dirty,**_

_"That's one way to look at it."_

_**so fucked up,**_

_"I think that's the only way to look at it."_

_"Do we have a deal?"_

_"Hold on, I want to enjoy this." Great. That's great. "You want me to fuck you, yes?" _

_**if you feel so walked on,**_

_Am I honestly doing this?_

_**so painful,**_

_"I guess."_

_**so pissed off. **_

_"No, no guessing. Come on, tell me. You want me to fuck you."_

_"Hunter—"_

_"No, say it."_

_"Hunt—"_

_"I'm only letting Adam off the hook if you get into this, Jay." Get into prostituting myself. Yeah, okay. _

_**You're not the only one refusing to go down. **_

_"I want you to fuck me." I say, staring at the ground. My fists clench, but I don't have any other options. I have to do this. He suddenly slams me against the wall and holds me against it, face first. _

_"You feeling a little helpless right now, Jay?" I grunt in return. "Good, good. Helpless is good." I try to move, but he's bigger, and a lot stronger than I am. He grinds his hips against me and I shiver. I'm afraid. I'm really afraid. "C'mon, get into it." My heart jumps in my throat as he wraps my hair around his fist and yanks my head back, smiling at the look of pain on my face. _

_**You're not the only one, so get up!**_

_"Tell ya what, I like you wondering what's coming to you. I'm gonna let you off tonight, but believe me, we aren't done. Not by a longshot. Know this, kid," he leans close and whispers in my ear. "No matter what happens, I swear to god, your career will never see the light of day. Ever. You'll disappear, real slow. Until someday, years from now, people will only say, 'damn, I thought that Christian guy was gonna be something. How'd he fuck that up?' I can promise you that nothing you do will change that." __**What've I done?**_

_**Let's start a riot, a riot!**_

11 1/2 years of ignored pops, squandered talent, avoidable injuries due to other people's carelessness, and idiotic, embarrassing gimmicks later, Hunter followed through on his promise.

_**Let's start a riot!**_

"Are you still there, Jay?"

_**Let's start a riot, a riot!**_

"What? Oh, yeah, sorry."

_**Let's start a riot!**_

"Well like I was saying, we've worked out a plan, but we need manpower. I know Hunter's wronged you—" I cut him off.

"What do you mean, 'you know Hunter's wronged me?'"

"I meant that you should've been pushed a thousand times over, and you never were. There's gotta be some animosity there, right?"

"Yeah, you could call it that."

_If you feel so empty, so used up, so let down,_

"Do you know anyone else who hates him?"

_if you feel so angry, just get up!_

"It'd be easier to list the people who don't."

"Can you help us? We need an army."

_Let's start a riot, a riot!_

"It'd be my pleasure."

_Let's start a riot!_

It doesn't take long to figure out who to call. No one knows what happened between Hunter and I. Not even Adam. I can't have him knowing I sacrificed my career, and my dignity, for him and his.

_Let's start a riot, a riot!_

I have my own selfish reasons for wanting to be involved in this. But if we get him out, does it really matter what the motives are?

_Let's start a riot!_

And who wouldn't? I mean, I can't even look the guy in the eye anymore. He took everything from me. And he's trying to do it again! He thinks he can do whatever he wants, and I have a chance to, in person, prove that he can't. He's stepped on so many people to get where he is, and it's about time that comes back to bite him in the ass.

_Let's start a riot, a riot!_

Hunter had never really done anything to Adam, but I know he'll have my back. He always does. That leads me to Ryder, he used to run with Adam and he hasn't been heard from in forever. My mind then goes to Nic. Poor guy is so good, but they've been drowning him forever. Sandow, Anderson, the thoughts keep flowing as I get a little excited. Is retribution finally mine?

_Let's start a riot!_

A/N: I got the idea for this chapter from Debwood-1999. It's really all her, I just brought the idea to life. Thank you for adding depth to my story and thank you for reading, Deb! And thank you all for your reviews. They're so helpful, I'm so thankful for them.  
Reviews? 


	30. Chapter 30: Unbreakable Heart

Chapter 30: Unbreakable Heart

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in later chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (this chapter and later chapters)

SONG: UNBREAKABLE HEART BY THREE DAYS GRACE

_Hijacked when you weren't looking,_

••••

Where was I? Am I awake yet? Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. It's story time.

_behind your back, people are talking, _

I gingerly place myself on my back and groan between my teeth. Ouch. My concern for Jeff has blinded me from my own injuries. God, that fucking hurt. I bend my knees to stretch them out and stare at the ceiling. We haven't said anything to each other in a long time. There's nothing much to say. It's quiet but I wouldn't go so far as to call it boring. Cause I'd take this a thousand times over any of those fuckers coming down here. From what Jeff said I figure it's Wednesday, but I have no idea how long we slept, or how long we've been here alone.

_using words that cut you down to size._

I drum my fingers along the concrete and think if there's anything I can do to boost our morale without making Jeff talk too much. I figure he can pace himself. Here's something. "Chaleene. Chaz. Cassie. Mike. April. Kofi. Chris Jericho," I start listing.

_You want to fight back, _

"_What _are you doing?"

_it's building inside you, _

"Think. What does these people have in common? What do these people mean to me?"

_holding you up,_

"I have no idea."

_taking you hostage._

"I'll keep going then. Adam Copeland. Nic Nemeth. Amy Dumas. _Jeff Hardy."_

"Ohh. Those are people you're staying strong for. People you think of when you want to give up."

_Yeah, it's worth fighting for._

I snap my fingers and point to him.

"That's right." I keep staring up and rack my brain. " You try."

_They'll try to take your pride,_

"Beth."

_they'll try to take your soul,_

"Dean Ambrose."

_they'll try to take all the control, _

"Ruby."

_they'll look you in the eyes,_

"Seth Rollins."

_fill you full of lies, _

"Matt."

_believe me, they're gonna try._

"Bryan Danielson."

_So when you're feeling crazy, _

"Samoa Joe."

_and things fall apart, _

"That's a good one. Colt Cabana."

_listen to your head,_

"Shannon Moore."

_remember who you are, _

"Cliff Compton."

_you're the one, _

"Marty Garner."

_you're the unbreakable heart._

"Lars Frederiksen."

_you're the one, _

"Jason Arhndt."

_you're the unbreakable heart._

"Ace Steel."

_you're the one, _

"Mark LoMonaco and Devon Hughes."

_you're the one._

"The Blackhawks." He snorts with laughter.

_Hijacked,_

"Honestly? You're staying strong for a hockey team?

_when you weren't looking,_

"Yes."

_behind your back,_

"You're not normal."

_people are talking,_

"Normal is boring."

_using words that cut you down to size._

"Good point. John Morrison."

"The Cubs."

"_Really_?" Hey, he's laughing, that was the goal.

"They'll win a World Series someday."

_You want to fight back,_

"Sure they will."

_you're out in the open,_

"I do not appreciate your sass, Jeffery."

_you're under attack,_

"Hey, with me you gotta take the good with the bad."

_but __your spirit's not broken._

"Don't I know it."

_You know it's worth fighting for!_

"You're such a hometown boy."

"You tell me for one second you don't love Cameron as much as I love Chicago."

"You wear the flag on your ass in the ring." He states matter-of-factly.

_They'll try to take your pride,_

"I also wear it on my boots. Don't forget the boots."

_they'll try to take your soul,_

"Ahh yes. How could I be so ignorant."

_they'll try to take all the control._

"I may wear the flag, but you're just as bad. What with your crazy trampoline wrestling and your OMEGA and your little crew." He scoffs.

_they'll look you in the eyes,_

"My 'crew'?"

_fill you full of lies, _

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You and Matt and Shannon and Shane Helms and C.W. Anderson and a whole shitload of other people."

_believe me, they're gonna try._

"Fine, I love Cameron. I still think you love Chicago more."

"Cameron was far kinder to you than Chicago was to me. Cameron doesn't have alleyways where big scary guys are always ready to beat the shit out of you and take all your money."

_So when you're feeling crazy, _

"Fair enough."

_and things fall apart,_

"You should be thanking me. I helped you remember people to add to your list."

_listen to your head,_

He sighs dramatically.

_remember who you are,_

"You're right, thanks."

_you're the one,_

"Think about all those people you talked about. Your wife and your daughter and your brother. That's why you're still in it. That's why they can't break us."

_you're the unbreakable heart._

"Punk?"

_you're the one,_

"Yeah?"

_you're the unbreakable heart._

"I still feel like shit."

_you're the one,_

"Me too."

_you're the one._

"I think I have at least five broken ribs."

_Don't look them in the eyes,_

"Woah. Are you okay?"

_believe me they're going to try,_

"No.

_to fill you up with lies!_

But neither are you.

_They'll try to take your pride,_

I'm still alive.

_Try to take your soul, you're the one, you're the one. _

My spirit is still in one piece."

_They'll look you in the eyes,_

"There you go!

_fill you full of lies,_

That's the right attitude."

_you're the one,_

"Did you put those tacks in your pocket?

_you're the unbreakable heart!_

"Yeah."

"I think they might be mad that we took them out."

"Who gives a flying fuck what they think?"

"I don't want them to take it out on you."

"I'm fine. You worry about you."

_You're the one,_

"I don't want you to have to feel like I do right now."

"Goddammit, it shouldn't have happened to **you** in the first place!" He nudges the side on my head with his shoe, since he still can't use his hands.

"Stop doing that."

_you're the unbreakable heart!_

"But—"

"But nothing. Stop it. Right now."

"I guess you're right."

"I am right."

"Okay, okay. But I'm just saying, whatever happens, happens, and if they want to do something, chances are they're going to end up doing it."

_You're the one,_

"That doesn't mean we have to let them."

"The only thing we _can _do is make things difficult for them." Just then I hear the door creak open and slam shut. _Oh goody. _

_you're the one. _

Reviews?


	31. Chapter 31: Madness In Me

Chapter 31: Madness In Me

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

A/N: Sorry this took so long, guys. Life gets in the way.

SONG: MADNESS IN ME BY SKILLET

_Just one spark is all it takes, _

I sit straight up and adjust to face the stairs, positioned next to Jeff with my back to the wall. Heavy footsteps follow and my stomach does a backflip. Knowing they would come back did not mean I was ready. It's impossible to be ready for them. I wrack my brain of the people who hate me. Or wrestlers that scare me. There's a large variety to choose from. A second set of footsteps tells me there's two people, which is the thin silver lining. It might just be Paul and Hunter. The feet pound down the steps and I'm wrong, I'm really, really wrong.

_I tried so hard but it all goes up in flames. _

Paul is there. But so is Glenn Jacobs. And something tells me he isn't channeling Glenn Jacobs. Kane. Paul's brought me another monster. This isn't Glenn that I've talked to in catering on occasion and seems like a nice enough guy. Whatever it is that Paul said or did to him, it made him go into that other realm in his mind.

_This is not the way that I thought I would turn out to be. _

Similar to the character Randal played on TV at one point, Glenn has IED. Intermittent Explosive Disorder. He has uncontrollable fits of rage in which he has no idea what he's doing. He channels them into his on-screen character, Kane.

_Tried to get but all that I got was more insanity. _

But he can't always decide when they happen. They're terrifying up close, when you know the man in front of you could give a shit what he does to you and has no conscience. There are things that can trigger them. Paul must've done something to trigger one. So the guy I'm faced with has no idea who I am and he doesn't care. I've heard him say it while he's in character on TV a thousand times. He's going to eviscerate me and he's going to have fun doing it. Paul points my way and Kane sets out towards me.

_Broken everything that I touched, just gone against me._

I glance at Jeff, scared out of my mind, and he throws his head softly back on the wall.

"Dear God…" he whispers.

_I can__'__t get away!_

"Glenn, you don't have to do this," I start, getting to my feet slowly.

"'Glenn' can't hear you, Punk." Paul gloats. "_Kane _is going to enjoy this, however. Not a shred of remorse, not an ounce of mercy. Tough luck, I'm afraid you're screwed, my friend."

_From the fire that burns inside, consuming, _

"Glenn, I respect you. You respect me. Please leave me alone."

"No one respects you," he growls. "And why should they?"

_I fight to stay alive but I can't breathe! _

Kane closes his hand around my throat. I look into his eyes and regret it immediately. They're glazed over with fury and it's scary as fuck because I know Paul convinced him to direct it at me. "Glenn, don't listen to him," I rasp, his grip getting tighter as I try to reason with the man behind the mask.

_The voices scream! _

"Stop talking. I don't want to hear a sound out of you unless it's a scream." He growls in my face, his huge hand choking the life out of me.

_The enemy takes over everything, _

I gasp for breath and pull desperately at his fingers. My kicking feet connect with his stomach, and he lets go to back up. "DON'T. TOUCH. ME." I made him angrier. Uh oh. _Bad idea, Punk. Bad, bad, bad._ I'm hesitant to try and hurt Glenn because I don't have anything against him. However, I really have no other option and Kane isn't taking prisoners.

_this is the madness in me!_

I go as far as my chain will allow me to and start smashing right forearms into his face, causing him to falter for a second.

_Just one chance is all it takes. _

I gather up my strength and swing a roundhouse kick aimed for his head, which is a stretch for how tall he is.

_Can't change the past,_

One of the many moments in this basement, alone, that I'm thankful that I work where I do, in a profession in which I'm required to defend myself.

_but I can fight to change today. _

I start kicking at him with my free leg, but I'm stopped short as he catches my foot. He lifts it until my other leg follows and I fall in a heap. My hand goes to my pocket but there aren't any tacks left in it, they fell out during my brief struggle with Kane.

_This is not the way that I thought I would turn out to be. _

Paul has gone inside a closetthat I had no idea was here, and he's pulling something out of it. _Great. That's just what I needed._ I don't have the luxury of watching him though, as Kane has taken up kicking me in the face as hard as he can. I cover up with my right arm, not wanting to put my broken one in the way with how much force is behind those blows. My one arm isn't much protection though, and Kane is a good deal stronger than I am. Whatever Paul had been getting out is out, and he throws Kane the key to my ankle restraint.

"Get him over here, Kane."

_Tried to get but all that I got was more insanity. _

I start fighting again as soon as he lets me out, but he takes hold of my throat and drags me over by it. I cough and splutter and claw at his hand, but he gets his way, like always, and throws me onto what turns out to be a steel surgical type table. Of course, it's not just a table. My wrists and ankles are bound to it before I even realize what's going on. It's cold as fuck and doing my torn up back no favors. With my hands above my head, I can tell that nothing good will come of this.

_Broken everything that I touched, just gone against me._

Kane leaves my side and I give Paul a look of utter contempt. He smiles arrogantly at me. "Glare all you want. Face it, Punk. Your pathetic ass is worthless and helpless, as it should be."

_Got to get away!_

"Fuck you." He slaps me. "You hit like a girl." Again. I force myself to smile. "Is that all you've got?" Again. Again. Again. I can tell he's losing control. "No wonder you're always hiding behind someone else." Again, it's harder this time.

_From the fire that burns inside, consuming, _

"It was me for a _long_ time." It's got something behind it now. He's never been patient. "Were you planning this that whole time?" He drives his fist in my stomach and I groan, fighting through and clenching my fists overhead.

_I fight to stay alive but I can't breathe! _

"**How long** have you hated me, Paul? How long have you been lying to my face?" This time he hits me in the junk. It makes me gasp and squeeze my eyes shut. I catch Jeff's voice faintly behind me.

"Lay off, Paul."

"This is not of your concern, Jeff. I think you have enough to take care of on your own." I bite down on my lip ring and try to push the pain from my mind.

_The voices scream! _

My eyes open to Paul's smirking face. He thinks he's won. He's got another thing coming. "Why do you hate me, Paul?" But Kane's come back, much to Paul's relief, and he's got something that makes me seriously consider begging him.

_The enemy takes over everything, _

I keep my list in my mind. He's not going to break me. I swallow hard. Not even with… holy shit, is that really a branding iron?

_this is the madness in me!_

Reviews?


	32. Chapter 32: Who Are You Now

Chapter 32: Who Are You Now

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: WHO ARE YOU NOW BY SLEEPING WITH SIRENS

_Don't wake me up if I'm sleeping this life away, tell me that I'll never be good enough, sometimes it hurts to think it could really be that way it won't be that way._

A red-hot, glowing piece of metal. About a million times hotter than the cigarette they burned me with a while ago. I pull a little harder at the metal holding me down.

"A branding iron?" I ask dejectedly to no one in particular.

"Aww, does that scare the tough little wrestler that could?" Kane laughs sinisterly. _Yes. That scares the tough little wrestler that could __**a lot**__._

_I'm tired and I'm lost, I don't want to be found, I'll put my heart and my soul and strength in this now._

I hear what I've come to know as Jeff's cry of pain and try to crane my neck to see what's happening. Paul is cruelly stepping on Jeff's abdomen just to hear him scream.

"Paul, stop it. Just stop. You're about to burn shapes or whatever the hell he's got there in my fucking skin. Let that be enough for you."

_So forgive me cause I won't forget that this world has changed me so you know when you ask me: _

"You know what? You're right." It's that sadistic side of him that wants to watch me suffer more than anything that brings him back. He walks over to me and nods to Kane. I take a deep breath. I know there's no preparing for what's ahead. Kane gives me a wicked grin and moves what I think is a "W" over to the right half of the straightedge tattoo that curves around my belly button. Around the "STR" part. An awful thought strikes me at around the same time the iron does. _He's going to burn something else right over that tattoo. That __thing __is my identity. _Then the only thing on and in my mind is pain. Pain that makes me scream and arch my back away from the table and it's all too much for me to handle. Until my voice is gone I'm shrieking and inside I'm going over my list to stop myself from trying to plead with them. I squeeze my eyes shut, and if I believed in God I'd be praying for this to end.

_Who are you now? _

But regardless, it won't end because they've barely begun.

_Did you take what you want? _

As he lifts the iron I try to calm myself down, there's still a long way to go and I need to make it that whole time.

_Don't go back to the start, I'm asking who are you now? _

The first letter is "W". I really hope it's a short word. Kane leaves for the closet again and I shut my eyes, closing out the basement and trying not to focus on the searing pain. I go back to my list and decide to think about Chaleene, Chaz, Cassie, and Mike for the strength I need to endure the next one. My sisters and my brother. They got me this far, I have to make it back to them. I have to get through for them. I love them more that Paul hates me. I can do this. Kane is back. I scrunch up my toes and ball up my fists, mustering up the courage to keep going. This courage given to me by my family. I think it might be an "E". He chooses the "AIGH" part next. I assume by the way he's spacing it that there's four or five letters. I squirm like crazy as the metal starts melting my skin. My abdomen is on fire, and I'm desperate to put it out.

_Did they break you apart? _

"Oh my God, could you go _any_ slower?!" I scream.

"Is that a challenge?" Kane growls. _Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

_Won't you fight back for what you want?_

My breathing pattern is getting out of control but I can't focus hard enough to slow it down. My mind goes blank and the smell of my burning flesh is vomit-inducing. I choke it down and throw my head back on the table, harder than I wanted to. My mouth is open but sound isn't coming out. I feel the pressure lessen again and I bring my head back up. I try not to look at my stomach because getting sick on Paul's shoes wouldn't be good for my situation.

_Sometimes you gotta fall before you fly, we're gonna work it out._

Kane shoots a dark, sinister smile my way and I rake my teeth over my bottom lip. This time it's an "A" hovering over the "TED" part.

_Don't, don't, don't wake me up, cause I hate who I am today. _

I chew on my piercing and focus on April this time. My girl. My wife. The best thing I ever got from wrestling. I wonder what bullshit story they're feeding her about why I'm gone. I can't come home to her broken in helpless pieces.

_So come on, come on and just take, take, take what you want. _

She deserves better.

_Isn't that what we're living for? _

Short, choppy breaths make my concentration shaky. My confidence is shattered, though. Because there's no light at the end of the tunnel right now. The word "weak" branded on my stomach won't mean they're satisfied.

_We're always wanting more. _

That they'll leave me alone. I know when Kane is in this mode bad things happen. Carnage. I'll just be a casualty of the endless rage. He won't care until he wakes up and then…

_You made me hate my own reflection, _

The guilt would be unimaginable.

_Question every choice I make, _

But I'm stuck here with Kane, Glenn is nowhere to be found. It won't end with the last burns. I haven't even made it through the whole word, and it's already breaking my whole world apart. _AJ. April. April Jeanette Mendez. Brooks. We've got two months behind us. She deserves a lifetime. _

_**So I can try to be perfect, **_

_I'll be back, AJ. I'll be back._

_**but I won't try to be fake!**_

I'm sent crashing back into reality by Kane sticking the iron into my skin again. I squirm and shake against the table. It's getting worse. Unbearably so. _List. Remember the list. _I can hear Paul laughing vividly, a sound that has haunted me since I was jumped. I tense up as anger takes an undertone to fear and pain. In another scream I tell him to shut up. Mistake. The pressure of the metal against my skin increases and this scream is just pain. Smoldering agony intensifies further as Kane drills unmercifully deep into my unprotected flesh. They're destroying my identity. They're trying to destroy me. But Chaz, Chaleene, Cassie, Mike and April have something to say about that. As well as all the others that I love, that I'm fighting to see again, fighting to stay whole for them. So taking my tattoo won't take my hope. He finally gives me a reprieve, I'm certain the "K" will be coming now, over the "DGE". I can hear some faint rustling and a desperate moan behind me. You can't get up, Jeff. I have to lay here and take it and you have to sit there and watch. Don't hurt yourself over it. Then I catch him coughing out something I wasn't expecting.

"Randy Orton, I don't know my father. What makes you think I give a shit who yours is? Third generation—" I know where he's going.

"Suck my dick," I offer, the pain blinding me but Jeff helping me to carry on. Choice words from Jon Moxley, whom we all now know and love as Dean Ambrose.

"What is that? Why do you two imbeciles keep doing that?" I hope Jeff can handle this one. I'm not sure I'm capable of more than what I did just then.

_So forgive me cause I really could care less that this world has changed me, so you know when you ask me:_

"Just proof that your tub-of-lard bitch ass hasn't broken us."

"I'll sick Kane on **you** next if you don't watch it, Jeffery." My stomach drops to my shoes. Can't you leave Jeff alone for once? Don't take the one good thing I get out of this ordeal—Jeff's safety—away from me. Kane is coming back from the closet and fear awakens inside me again. I run through my list in my head frantically, trying to garner the strongest support I can think of. _Wrestlers. Just think of all the wrestlers you've gotten so close to. Cabana and Joe and Jericho and Nic and Steel and the kid, Ambrose… remember how much he reminds you of yourself? You want to be there for him because no one was there for you. Make it back for them. If they were here they wouldn't want you to give in. _I force myself to look back at Kane and separate him from Glenn. Stop telling myself he doesn't mean to hurt me. Kane wants to inflict the most violent suffering imaginable on me.

_Who are you now? _

It doesn't matter if Glenn does or not, because Glenn isn't here. With renewed vigor I struggle with the metal circles holding me to the table. Paul's laugh turns my gaze in his direction. "Do you honestly still think you can get away from him?" I glower at him and find my voice after a long time.

"Cabana."

"How is Cabana supposed to help you now?" He spits it out like I'm stupid.

"Cabana is why I still think I can get away from him."

"You're insane."

"Sometimes you need combat insane with insane." Trying to go blow for blow with Paul is wearing me down, but this is a way I can fight back. Submission is what you want? Submission my ass.

_Did you take what you want? _

Then the "K" comes down on my skin again and it rips another scream out of my trembling frame. I try to think and stop the spread of the agony into my brain. I begin to whisper my list under my breath to keep that on my mind instead of the iron burning letters in my flesh. "Steel, Nemeth, Jericho, St-Steel, Joe, N-Nemeth, C-C-C-Cabana, A-A-Ambrose. Remember Ambrose. You can do this."

"You're talking to yourself now?" Paul's tone is one of condescension. I try to breathe through it, but tortured shrieks are forced out by the crazy fucking demon above me. I bridge my hips off the table but the iron doesn't move with me, it stabs farther into my abdomen. I scream in between gasping breaths and bang my head against the table. I yank on the metal binding my wrists above my head, hard enough to send my arm into a paroxysm of agony. Bad idea. Higher and louder sounds than I knew I could make because he won't let up. My ears start ringing and I get disoriented, forgetting where I am, who is here, who I am, and what in God's name is the feeling in my ribs. I can't call it pain, because it's so much worse than _just_ pain. I find Kane's eyes again and they scare the hell out of me. It's just black nothingness. No feeling, no emotion, zilch, zip, zero, nada. How can a human being be that way? _It's Kane, _I tell myself. _It's not Glenn, he isn't your friend. _

_Don't go back to the start, _

"Fucking s-s-stop!" My voice shakes, just like the rest of me. But I won't lay here in silence. I get the infuriating, joyful cackle from Heyman and the dark, I'll-eat-your-fucking-children laugh—if you can call it a laugh—from Kane. Why does everyone in this shithole have a creepy-ass laugh? "Fuck," I whisper under my breath. I can usually handle pain— hell, I handle pain for a living. But not so much for so long. Never so much for so long. Kane still hasn't let up, and I've pretty much exhausted all my possibilities. He pushes harder again just to hear me yell. I'm not begging you, Kane. Keep dreaming. I'm not broken, Paul. Keep dreaming. I haven't lost hope, Hunter. Keep dreaming.

_I'm asking who are you now? _

"Keep dreaming, k-k-keep dre-e-eaming, keep d-dreaming." I mutter, and eventually The Big Red Monster finally leaves me the fuck alone. For this moment. I can't even be happy for the reprieve because I have "WEAK" burned on top of my fucking identity. I'm nervous though, because I'm still on the table.

_Did they break you apart? _

Still no way out.

_Won't you fight back for what you want?_

Still at their mercy. Or lack thereof. I squeeze my eyes shut and do anything I can not to think about what the future holds for me. Jeff is forgotten about at the moment, which seems to be the only good thing about this situation. I can't decide what would be worse right now, Kane going back to the closet or staying here. I know he's slipped into the terrifying reality represented in his character. Believe it or not, that man has a thing for fire. That's not good news for me. I can still smell my burnt skin, and it kicks me in the face with dread. Even if I got out of this place at this second, I have no idea how long it'd take for Jeff and I to get back to our normal selves._ What if we never do? What if this place fucks up the rest of our lives? What if this place __**is**__ the rest of our lives? _**Slow down, slow down. **This is what they want me to think. But then I remember where I am, who is here, who I am, and what in God's name the feeling in my ribs is. I'm in the middle of Paul's crazy fantasy, and I'm with two postal lunatics. But more importantly, I'm CM fucking Punk. I answer to no one. I'm my own goddamn man. I smart off but I don't back off, up or down. I don't let up or lay off. I don't roll over, I don't even know how. Nothing has ever broken me, and that won't start now. I can do this.

"I can take it," I gasp. "I can take it." I don't know if that's really true or not, but there's a finality about saying it out loud. I still have a chance, I can handle this, and** I can take it.**

"Paul, calm down for a second. This is overboard. Even for you."

"Jeff, don't. Please, I can take it."

"No, you can't. No one could possibly take this." Jeff, you're not getting anywhere with this. Just let me face it on my own.

_Sometimes you gotta fall before you fly,_

Paul interjects, arrogantly.

"He's right, Punk. You know pride is one of the seven deadly sins, don't you? _**Deadly? **_Haven't you learned not to play with fire yet? You know what they say about doing that… eventually, you get _burned_. Perhaps you should listen to your friend, because if you keep pushing it, you'd be surprised how much restraint we've exercised thus far. Our hand might just slip." Kane goes back to the closet and I can't think straight anymore, can't recall making any list or what was on it. The cracks of the ceiling dance before my eyes and I can't focus on anything. Kane has come back, though, I can feel his eyes on me. But only when an excruciating electric shock sticks in my ribs, high, near my armpit, is when I realize they have a new toy. Not the taser either, the taser felt different. This is worse.

"Damn, stop it. Please stop, Kane." I get a dark laugh in return and he starts shocking me rapid-fire all over with what I have to assume is a cattle prod. Every time I flinch away from one side he goes to the other. My short, choppy outbursts become one long, loud shriek that only serves to make the blows harder and longer. I arch every which way but there's no escaping it. By the time he lets up I can feel the tears running down my face. My pride has dissolved and I don't even care, he stopped and that's all that matters right now. My ragged gasps for air keep the pain at the forefront of my consciousness. I whisper, "Please."

_Sometimes you gotta fall before you fly,_

"I want you to start calling everyone who comes in here, who isn't Jeff, Master." Because it's not enough to come close to torturing me to death. Never enough.

"No."

_We're gonna work it out._

Reviews?


	33. Chapter 33: Buried Alive

Chapter 33: Buried Alive

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: BURIED ALIVE BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

_Take the time just to listen, when the voices screaming are much too loud._

So he starts again, except now he jams it in the fresh burns across my stomach. Unexplainable, unimaginable pain is all I can feel, I forget who I am, who's causing it, why he's doing it, all I know is that I'll do anything, anything to stop it. Anything.

_Take a look in the distance, try and see it all._

I fight off sobs at first, but it soon gets to a point where I just can't anymore, it's all too much and I break down into hysterics. "I-I-I'll do anything, just stop, please, p-please, I can't t-take this any longer." It's so fucking easy to talk a tough game. It's impossible to get through this in one piece. It's impossible.

_Chances are that you might find that we share a common discomfort now._

He lifts the electric death contraption from my body for an instant, long enough for Paul to dig deeper.

"You know exactly how to make it stop."

_I feel I'm walking a fine line, tell me only if it's real._

Is giving in to him the same as him breaking me?

_Hey, I can't live in here for another day, _

I don't know the difference at this point,

_darkness has kept the light concealed, _

and it doesn't even fucking matter anymore.

_grim as ever._

But the one person I've completely forgotten about puts himself in the line of fire, literally, for me.

"Fuck that. He ain't calling you Master. You don't own him." Hearing his voice reminds me that I still have something worth staying strong for.

_Hold onto faith as I dig another grave._

A whole lot of things, actually.

_Meanwhile the mice endure the wheel, real as ever._

That doesn't change the fact that I'm in more pain than I ever fathomed possible. And that's without Kane on the attack. I know Jeff's statement means they're going to somehow find a worse way to get to me now.

_And it seems I've been buried alive._

The manacle attaching my left arm to the table is released, only for Kane to bend my forearm over the edge of the metal. It doesn't fucking bend that way, you ass. I turn my head away as I feel another disgusting crack in my bone. I scrunch my whole face up and try to breathe through it, but it's unendurable and he rips more screeches from me. _When will this end? _I'm nearing hyperventilation and getting lightheaded, the familiar feeling of disorientation returning. Kane releases me and Paul forces me to look in his direction via my hair.

"You're so fucking stubborn. You're only making this harder on yourself. Why do you make me do this?" I hold my arm in towards my core and try to calm myself down, at least stop crying.

"Because I'm not a coward." I do my best to return the smoldering stare he gives me.

_Much has changed since the last time, and I feel a little less certain now. _

He traces his finger down my face and I flinch. He smiles.

"My _best_ friend. That's what you thought you were, right? I've known you for almost 10 years now, haven't I? I don't think you came into this week a coward, I never said that. But I do think you'll leave this week a coward. I know you like to think of yourself as some kind of hero, to your fans, am I right?"

_Trapped in the dark, slammed all the locks._

I grimace and reply in a voice that sounds pathetic, even to me.

"Yeah, I guess."

_Death calls my name, and it seems I've been buried alive._

"Do you remember when I told you Brock's theory about heroes?"

"S-s-show me a hero a-and I'll show you a coward who r-r-r-ran out of options or a f-fool who is too st-st-stupid to st-stay down." I'm scared, really scared, and a little voice in the back of my head tells me I'm playing right into his hands. I'm too afraid to think out the consequences of doing what he tells me to.

_I walked the fields through the fire, taking steps until I found solid ground._

"Right. I believe there is a third part to that theory. I think that third part applies to you. Perhaps you could show me a hero and I can show you a fighter who lets his courage overpower his sense of logic. That's what I've always thought about you, all that hero worship you receive."

_Followed dreams reaching higher, couldn't survive the fall._

"In the real world, heroes don't win. People like you, the fighters, the proud ones, you all fall in the end. You fall to people like me, smart people. There's a reason why you're lying there and I'm standing over you. Because I'm better than you are. I'm sick of you and how you think you're such a big shot. When I met you, you were nothing. No one wanted to book you, because you're so fucking impossible to work with or reason with. No one wanted to wrestle you, because you're such a perfectionist. No one wanted to hire you, because you're a sarcastic asshole with no filter. You like to call it 'telling it how it is', but really, you just don't know when to shut the hell up."

_Take you down now, burn it all out, throw you all around, get your fucking hands off me! _

"I took you in, I got you a job and put my entire career on the line because I saw myself in you. I thought you were just a little difficult, a little rough around the edges. You don't like to follow orders, you break the rules, you lied, manipulated people when you had to. I do those same things, it makes you a tough hire. I empathized, but you caught on so quickly once you got here that I immediately saw you for what you were. A stubborn piece of shit without a shred of common sense. You never knew when to run away from a fight. Remember what I used to say to you on screen? 'You don't fight for free, you don't fight for free'? You don't even know what that means. You can back off sometimes!" He yells. "Fucking choose your battles!"

_What's it feel like? Took the wrong route, watch it fall apart, now you're knockin' at the wrong gate._

Then he gets quiet. Eerily quiet. "Nope, no. CM Punk chooses _**all**_ the battles. I _hate_ that about you. I tried for years to make you into something useful, but you don't bend. Not one inch. 'I know I can do this, Paul.' 'I'm better than they think I am, Paul.' 'You trust me, don't you, Paul?' 'They're wrong about me, Paul.' 'They don't own me, Paul! **You** don't own me. _No one_ owns me.' 'It'll ruin my career, Paul.' 'I want to put him over, Paul. He's hot, I'm not ending that. My name isn't Triple H.' 'Fuck him.' 'Fuck that.' 'Luck is for losers, Paul.' You're completely insufferable. Not a moment goes by that I don't regret that day I got you signed. And then I had to fake like I was your friend, you know why I did that? Why I put myself through that? For this moment. This, right here. I've wanted to test that courage, that fighting spirit you've got for a long time. To sum it up, you're a stubborn, little punk, and you call yourself that because you're too stupid to realize it's a bad thing. You've gotten too arrogant, and it's pissed me the hell off for years. I really, really dreamed of the chance to humble you. See how long it'd take to destroy that courage. I longed to break your vaunted fighting spirit. So that's why I'm doing this, since you wanted to know. I know what a storyline is, Punk. I'm not stupid—" I cut him off.

"Please forgive me for not being perfect, oh great and powerful Oz." My voice bites with corrosive bitterness to hide the hurt inside. Sarcasm is a knee jerk reflex for me, one of the only things I can do without thinking. And I can't think right now. This is my only alternative to shaking and quivering in fear. A zap to my chest reminds me that no matter what I say, I don't have control over this situation. Paul is irascible. That spells trouble for me.

_For you to pay the toll, a price for you alone. _

"Oh shut the fuck up, will you? I never expected perfect. I just was hoping you wouldn't be such a freakin moron. But I should've known. I thought you were stupid when you started dating that crazy bitch, and then you married her!" I fight against my restraints with renewed vigor at that.

"Don't say a fucking word against AJ. Not one more fucking word."

"Who's gonna stop me? The only person in the world who **chooses** to spend time with you, other than that little slut, is somewhat _tied up_ at the moment."

"Shut. Up."

"It's not my fault you're an idiot! Punk, tell me; what's crazy gonna do when she finds out you like Jeff's pussy better than hers?" I can only growl in response. Words can't express how angry I am. "And now you're so pissed already. You're so easy. Oh wait, no, that's AJ, isn't it? You've always been this way. You're like a cockroach. Impossible to get rid of. You just don't know when to quit."

"I'll quit when hell freezes over."

_The only deal you'll find,_

He slaps me hard across my face.

_I'll gladly take your soul. _

"I honestly think it'll come a lot sooner than that. You're bound to a table, immobilized, with an evil genius, a remorseless monster, a room full of weapons and no one to save you. Please educate me as to how you'll get out of this." I squint my eyes shut. My mouth opens, but I don't have an answer to give. I keep them squeezed tight as Paul continues his attack. "Wow, CM Punk, always the man with the plan, is left speechless. Open your fucking eyes." I don't comply. A hard shock to my raw midsection that doesn't go away forces me to do what he asked. "Yeah, there you go. I like seeing the fear in those eyes. I fucking love it."

_While it seems sick, _

"You're fucking twisted."

_sober up quick, _

"Thank you. I want you to understand how sweet this picture is for me, right now."

_psycho lunatic, _

"You're helpless, you have been all week."

_crushing you with hands of fate._

"I see it finally setting in with you. In all this time I've known you, I have never seen you act this way. Scream this loud. Cry this hard. Beg, even. I've really never seen fear from you. There isn't room for it with how much sarcasm is shoved in that brain of yours. I see it now, though. A whole lot of it. Directed at _me_. You're afraid of what **I **can do to you, of what'll happen next. You know **I** control that. I think **I've** made you into a coward. I think **I've** made you weak, second guess your resolve. I think I've created a situation to finally break this hero I saw in you. I say saw because I don't see it so much anymore. I see you for what you really are. A guy who scratched and clawed, but has been in over his head in life for a while now and is too proud to admit it. I knew how it'd happen, how you'd break. You think you're invincible, in the beginning you thought I wasn't capable of accomplishing it. But I brought in more and more people, more weapons, used your friend against you, and you started to question yourself. Hopelessness began to set in as I won, round after round. You started to realize that you didn't have it in you to beat me. Then it reached its zenith, right now, it'll all come tumbling down on you when you start going through more pain than you thought existed in the world. You'll get real close tonight, but not all the way. Tomorrow is what'll do it. Look at you. You've been reduced to a shaking, sobbing, screaming mess. You've caved under a little pain. If only all your fans, your true-blue ROH followers, could see you now. Man," he shakes his head, "I really expected you to last longer." I wish I could let his words slide off, but they cut deep. This is a guy I'd've trusted with my life. A guy who helped me rise to the top and break the glass ceiling. Paul was a man I considered a friend and a confidant. Here he is telling me that whole time he dreamed of destroying me. I wish I could say that he's belittling my pain and that I know he couldn't have expected me to be unaffected by all the shit he's put me through. But I'd be lying. Hearing **him** say those words makes me feel worthless. Knowing I never really had a friend in him all of those years makes me feel empty. He hates me. He **always** hated me. Always. It's finally sunk in now, it didn't hurt when I thought he was flat out insane. It gets the exact reaction out of me that he wanted, but I can't help it. This honestly hurts more than anything he's done to me physically. It's different with all these other guys, I know they hate me and they always have, I expect it from them.

_Shame to find out when it's too late, _

For a long time Paul was my only friend in wrestling.

_but you're all the same, _

I guess he never even liked me, the only thing that kept him tolerating me for so long was the idea that one day he'd get to exact his sick, twisted revenge on me. I don't know what to say.

_trapped inside inferno awaits._

"P-P-Paul," I venture.

"No, just stop. I think we both know you know you had this coming." He releases my hair. Taking the prod from Kane, he gives me his sick, nasty smirk. "As much as I've enjoyed our little chat, we have to finish this before your surprise shows up and the fun really starts." _WHAT?_ "Turn him over."

"No, n-n-n-no, don't do this to me, Paul, please—" I'm cut off when Paul brings the instrument down across my chest and holds it there, pressing hard, making me throw my head back against the table and scream, again, tears trailing down my face despite my best efforts to keep them in. I soon can't feel my extremities, all I feel is the burning in my chest. That explains why I'm suddenly on my stomach and bound to the table again. The frigid metal brings about a whole new brand of agony when it connects with the burns on my stomach, matching the one that was in my chest previously and increasing it tenfold. I hiss through my teeth and hold my forehead to the table beneath me. An old 'friend' comes back in the form of the split in my skull that Hunter created when he jumped me in my hotel. It must've open up the last time I hit my head on the table, because blood drips down my forehead and collects in a pool below me, mixing with tears and sweat and more blood. A short shock reminds me that someone, most likely Paul, is still above me with a punishing kind of weapon. "I'm still here." Paul taunts. Yep, the Paulrus has got the power now. It occurs to me that Paul could potentially be even more dangerous than Kane, because he's got the crazy and the motivation. _But the way Paul explained himself didn't make him sound crazy at all. He's not crazy. He's done all of this in full awareness of his actions. He wanted this for years. _

_Evil thoughts can hide, _

I can feel his fingers brush over my back and I bristle. It's followed by a hard blow to my shoulder blade. That's how he goes about it. Rub, shock. Reprieve, pain. Tease, blow. It's disturbing how personal he's getting with me.

_I'll help release the mind, _

He's hardly touched me prior to now, save for a slap here and there. Goosebumps rise up on my skin and every part of my body tenses up. Breathing gets tight and constricted and stops short each time he shocks me.

_I'll peel away the skin, _

I keep quiet as long as I can but being pushed to the limit with no end in sight leaves me with no other option. I start sobbing hard for the first time since I've been held down here. Despite protests from the crack in my skull, each blow makes me involuntarily slam my head down on the table. It becomes accompanied by a yelp which evolves into a scream as the torture carries on. During one of the split second pauses, I get a couple words in. Not that they'll make any difference.

"Fuck, Paul, it hurts. It hurts so much, stop, Paul, please stop. Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry. Please make it stop, Paul. Please." Heyman lets up long enough to snicker and say,

"Some hero you are."

_release the dark within._

Then he keeps going. And going.

"Fuck!" I scream myself hoarse. Sometime after, he deprives me of the short breaks I had been receiving. "No more. Please," I beg.

"You can handle more."

"I can't, Paul. I can't." He seems to think I'm wrong, because he continues to buffet me with the prod. Straight shocks on end all over my body keep on coming until I don't hear myself scream and my body offers no reaction to the strikes. He's pushed me way past my limit and I feel broken, even if I'm not. I'm floating in and out of consciousness, and it's not fun. _He never gave a damn about you. _I think someone says something but all I hear is unidentifiable mumbling.

"You've been led down the wrong path and I'm not angry at you," Jeff says, sounding like he's underwater. Something in the far reaches of my mind says there's something I'm supposed to say. But I can barely even hear him. I can hardly even figure out if that's him talking or not.

_This is now your life, _

"I just feel sorry for you. Punk, it's I just feel sorry for you." His tone gets more desperate. "Punk!"

_strike you from the light. _

My fingernails scratch against the steel slowly and uselessly. I chew on my lip ring absently as I feel a couple seconds away from passing out. Or dying. It's like running sprints, when you want nothing more than to quit, but you know it's almost over. I can't tell.

_This is now your life, _

Pain just keeps coming in agonizing waves. I feel someone's breath on my ear but I'm made of cement, my mobility gone and my ability to form complete thoughts leaving with it. I'm not sure if I lose consciousness or not, but I know I stop being able to think.

_die buried alive._

Reviews?


	34. Chapter 34: Hero

Chapter 34: Hero

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: HERO BY SKILLET

_I'm just a step away, _

Cold metal wrapped around my neck and loud footsteps bring me back to the personal hell I've been subjected to. The table is gone and so is Kane. Some collar type thing restrains me to the general area around the wall. The footsteps belong to Paul, who is pacing the basement, Hunter, having returned, stands near the steps.

"This is it, I hope you realize that. This is the straw that will break the camel's back." He snickers a little. "Well, more than a straw, really. Today we finish you off."

_I'm just a breath away, _

I think Paul is trying to make me angry, or scared, but I can't quite tell because my ears are still ringing.

"What?" I ask, he's talking too fast and everything is spinning and he's confusing me.

"You're probably less than an hour away from breaking."

"Why?" All I can handle is basic questions.

"It's gonna be one of your friends doing it, too." Hunter adds.

"It's going to ruin the rest of your life. _Destroy_ you."

"I know 'im?" My words are slurred.

"That's right." Paul comments.

_losing my faith today, _

"It's pretty fucking sick too. I wouldn't even do it." Hunter adds. I'm just plain scared now. Scared of them. I'm not going to lie. Scared of what they're going to do to me. Scared of the fact that **Hunter** wouldn't do it. Hunter is one sick SOB. What could that possibly be? My thoughts are still moving in slow motion.

"You definitely won't be able to stop it." Hunter says.

"Jeff won't save you this time," mocks Heyman

"No one will."

_I'm falling off the edge today._

"And I mean, after your meltdown earlier, I'd say you don't have much left." He imitates my voice with a higher version of his own. "Paul, it hurts. It hurts so much, stop, Paul, please stop. Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry. Please make it stop, Paul. Please." He smirks. "You're pathetic, Brooks, you know that? Fucking weak, sad, sorry excuse for a man." It doesn't even make me mad anymore. It just hurts. I'm consumed by fear. Pain and fear. I back myself up against the wall and groan, loud, through my teeth. Is there any part of me that doesn't hurt? My breathing gets faster, which catalyzes torturous pain from Kane. And Hunter. And Paul. And Brock.

_I am just a man, _

_Kill me now. I don't even fucking care anymore. I hope that whatever this is kills me. This needs to end. This needs to end and they need to let Jeff go. _

_not superhuman,. _

That's the first time that thought has crossed my mind. That's their ultimate goal. But it's fucking terrifying to me, because I'm starting to think that death is the better option. As if I have options. I hear some clamoring upstairs, which is a sound I've come to know very well. Every little noise frightens me by now, and I shrink farther against the wall behind me and away from the place all my wonderful visitors come from. Hunter and Paul race towards the stairs. _Here we go a-fucking-gain_. My abdomen won't let me forget about the chronic pain that resides there. I'm done thinking nobody can come down here that could be worse than the last guy, because I've been consistently proven wrong. It's weird that they've restrained me by my neck this time… similar to a dog. Maybe they're trying to humiliate me, I don't know. I don't particularly care, either.

_I'm not superhuman, _

I have enough mobility to reach my knees, but there's a crank above me, out of my reach, that I assume makes the chain shorter or longer. They've always kept me guessing, I never know what they'll do next. That could possibly be the most terrifying aspect of my situation. Fear of the unknown. It's driving me insane.

_someone save me from the hate._

I've all but forgotten about Jeff at this instant, which could be perceived as selfish but he's been so quiet that the massive amount of pain bombarding me from every side screams a thousand times louder. But something sticks in my head, the amount of freedom I have at the moment. It's more than I've ever been given since I got here. I'd be happy if I didn't know better. Every fucking thing they do is carefully thought out and executed with precision. There's a definite reason behind my situation. I'm almost afraid to know what it is. It's something they must need full access to me for, something I'll need a full range of motion for. The angry, deep gashes in my wrists seem like a small side-effect right now, but remind me that I should be thankful they don't have me by my arms again. Careful footsteps move forward hesitantly above me, and in a hushed whisper I address Jeff. "Someone's here." He just stares back at me vacantly, practically staring a hole through me. He's soaking wet and shivering. I don't really want to know why. "Is something wrong, Jeff?" Still nothing. I keep to myself after that. Everyone deals with trauma in different ways. The visitor above me doesn't seem too eager. Could it really be someone I know? I go over my list again. I don't think any one of them would be persuaded by the resident crazies of this place unless they were threatened in a major way. _I don't know. Fuck, I just don't know._

_I need a hero to save me now, _

I take as deep a breath as my "new tattoo" will allow me, which isn't really a deep one. _What the hell is taking so long? _Then I hear a voice, Hunter's I believe, raise to a furious shout, a couple footsteps more and Hunter is descending down the stairs. Alone, it seems.

But he isn't.

"Goddammit, get down here!"

"Don't fucking push me, Paul! Why the hell are you even here? And you! You're insane, Hunter. Why the hell would you take an innocent guy into a basement in the middle of no—" he stops talking and leaves his mouth wide open as he reaches the bottom of the steps, a returning Paul on his heels. Confusion mixes with anger inside as I stare at him with the same gaped-mouthed expression he has.

_I need a hero to save me now,_

_Dean fucking Ambrose. Man, he's a good kid. Why him? What else can go wrong? _"Punk," he breathes, little more than a whisper. Dean turns to Hunter and Paul and absolutely goes off on them. "What the fuck you guys?! What the fuck is this? What the fuck are you trying to pull here? Look at this! What have you done to him? What right do you have?" He glances back at me before whispering, "Why would you do that to him?"

_I need a hero to save my life, _

At that moment Jeff goes into one of his coughing fits and Dean's head snaps back towards us, to my left where Jeff has plastered his back against the wall and pulls futilely at the cuffs pinning his arms behind him. He brings his knees up and rests his head on them when it's over, groaning meekly. But he still says nothing. Dean's eyes get even wider. "Is that Jeff fucking Hardy, Hunter? You want to explain to me why Jeff Hardy is coughing like he's got the plague in this weird-ass little hole in the wall?" His fists are balled up angrily his sides.

_a hero will save me just in time._

Paul keeps a cool head on the sideline, but Hunter looks almost as pissed as Dean.

"Let's get a few things straight here, street rat." He pushes Dean away from him and stalks over to me. Paul pushes Dean again in my direction, and Dean gives him a murderous look. Hunter leans nonchalantly against the wall and places his foot on my face. "You don't talk to me with that bass in your voice." He kicks me once and I put my healthy arm up to try and push him off. It doesn't work at all. Dean takes a step closer.

_Who's gonna fight for what's right? _

"You don't ask me questions." He kicks me in the face again.

_Who's gonna help us survive? _

"You listen to me and do as I tell you." He kicks me a couple more times before Dean forcibly pulls him off. Hunter turns around and slugs Dean in the face, sending him to the ground. I flinch. Isn't it enough that he hurts Jeff and I? Dean is like a little brother to me. I don't like seeing him getting hit for trying to defend me.

_We're in the fight of our lives, and we're not ready to die._

"AND YOU DON'T. FUCKING. TOUCH. ME!" He yells at the top of his lungs. Dean holds his hands up defensively.

"Fuck, alright Hunter. Just leave him alone. Please." Hunter laughs and I shiver.

"Yeah, I'll leave him alone. You'll do more than enough to compensate for my lack of participation." Now it's Dean's turn to flinch.

"Dean," I whisper hoarsely. "Help me. Please." The fear weighs heavily on his eyes.

"I can't."

_Who's gonna fight for the weak? _

"Yeah, he can't." Hunter smirks as I wipe blood from my face.

"Please. I need you to get me out of this nightmare. Please."

"I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am." I squint my eyes shut and groan through my teeth.

"What did he say to get you here?" I say warily.

_Who's gonna make them believe? _

"It's none of your damn business how we got him here!" He drops to his knees and I lift a hand to hit him but he grabs my left arm and slams it against the concrete behind me. I bring my arm in toward my stomach and squint my eyes shut, trying not to make a sound but a short scream comes out through my teeth. _No more asking questions, Punk. Keep your mouth shut._ Dean speaks cautiously.

"What's wrong with his arm?" Hunter smiles proudly.

_I've got a hero living in me. _

"It's broken. Brock broke it." Dean gives a Hunter a look somewhere between disgust, resentment, and rage, and then transfers it to Paul. There's something between remorse and pity when he looks back to me. I know he doesn't want to be here. It's blatantly obvious. But Hunter and Paul must want something specific that only Dean can give them. I go over what I know about him. _He's in the Shield, I had a match with him almost two years ago when he was in FCW, he's an accomplished Indy wrestler, especially hardcore wrestling, he's one of the toughest guys I know, he's got a gift when it comes to talking, he had a rough childhood, I don't know anything specific about it, he vividly reminds me of me, he's in a relationship with Seth Rollins, one of his stable-mates, it's been over a year now… what does any of that mean, though? _Fuck, it's going to be a thousand times worse when it's a really good friend of mine doing it. I strain against the metal collar around my neck, which serves to choke me.

"Look, guys," I mumble sadly. "I know you want to take from me until everything is gone, but there's nothing left to take. Don't bring him into it." The way Dean looks at me, I've never seen him look at anyone this way.

"Punk," he starts, horrified. "What did they do to you?"

"You don't want to know." I murmur.

"Hey, you're actually right for once!" Hunter remarks. "You really don't want to know, kid. Makes your indie shit look cute."

"Why him?" I ask dejectedly.

"I'm _so_ glad you asked!" Paul exclaims, turning to Dean, who's already looking miserable and guilty. "Care to explain?" He shakes his head emphatically. Hunter comes back over to me and steps on my left arm, putting all his weight on it, and only once I'm full on screaming does he step off. I curse under my breath and Ambrose looks even more shaken up. "Care to explain?" Paul repeats.

_I've gotta fight for what's right, _

"Fine," he says, trying not to freak out, I can tell. He puts his face in his hands and drops down to sit on the floor with me, making nervous eye contact. He takes a deep breath and rakes his fingers through his hair a few times. "You gotta understand that I did everything I could. He even threatened to **kill** you. One of the reasons it's me is that we're close. You have no idea how much I hate myself for even thinking about this. Because I know what it's like to be in the position you're about to be in, and it's scarred me for life."

"Get to the fucking point, Dean." Hunter gets short with him.

"Okay, okay." He digs his nails into the side of his face. It must be pretty fucking bad. "So the other reason it's me is that I'm gay." He pauses a second and digs them in harder. "He wants me to rape you." I just stare at him for a second because I must've heard him wrong. _Fuck, rape? _But as he gets up, he places himself directly between me and my tormentors and winks at me. I breathe an internal sigh of relief. He must have some kind of a plan. I decide it might help stall if I can go along with it.

_today I'm speaking my mind, _

"Like hell, you rat bastard! You're going to sell yourself out for _Triple H_? I thought I fucking saw myself in you! You want him to _rape_ me?" I look at Hunter, then turn to Dean. "And **you're** going along with it?"

"Punk, I—"

"Just stop, Dean. Just stop. You're a filthy prick. Stop trying to fucking justify yourself to me. If you honestly want to rape me, your friend, go a-fucking-head. Who's gonna stop you? God knows I can't."

_and if it kills me tonight, _

"This is what I fucking get for trusting people, taking them under my wing. I thought you were different, Dean. But you're just as much Hunter's flimsy yes man as anyone else in his company. And as if that's not bad enough, you like to pretend that you _aren't. _You'll only show you're true colors when the chips are down and I actually **need** your help, _that's_ when you'll turn on me. You're an asshole." There's only two of them here. Maybe Dean has a plan that'll work.

_I will be ready to die._

They're eating it all up, which is exactly what I wanted.

"Do it, Dean." He gets closer to me and I can see him purposely trying to avert his eyes from the burns on my stomach. He gets his head next to mine and I stay up on my knees, rigid. I don't know how far this has to go.

"I'm gonna get you guys out of here." He whispers so quietly I barely hear it. I want to believe him, but hope has been dead for what feels like forever. I need this to work. Louder, he pleads, "_please_, just try to relax. It'll hurt less if I don't have to force it in." It almost seems like Dean has experience in this field. Weird.

_A hero's not afraid to give his life, _

"Shut. Up. Stop trying to help him and fucking get on with it." Hunter snaps. Dean cringes.

"Hands and knees." I comply, but I'm still scared out of my mind. What if he actually does rape me? "Fuck, your back." He mumbles and it must look pretty awful, because Ambrose has seen some gruesome shit in his lifetime. He places a hand tentatively on my lower back, and that's when I hear a loud bang upstairs.

_a hero's gonna save me just in time._

Reviews?


	35. Chapter 35: This Means War

Chapter 35: This Means War

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: THIS MEANS WAR BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

_Hide my face again, harbor in the shadows. Feel this weight of sin, hammering away. _

Hunter falters for a second, and in that second Ambrose has tackled him to the ground, raining down blows unforgivingly, letting loose his pent up anger as Paul tries to pull him off. Hunter is swearing up a storm while Dean screams at the top of his lungs how sick Hunter is and for Paul to get the fuck off of him. Just then the sweetest sight I've ever seen comes down the stairs. Wrestlers. My way out. My friends and my co-workers. Am I actually being rescued right now? Jay Reso, to my surprise, is leading the charge and he jumps on Hunter, Dean switching to Paul to let Jay in. "I'll kill you, you motherfucker!" He screams. Before I know it there has to be at least half a dozen guys down here. There's a flash of bleach blond hair I've come to know as Nic Nemeth, who gives himself a split second to be horrified before looking around for keys. Ken Anderson, Zack Ryder, Damien Sandow, Seth Rollins and Adam Copeland enter the fray. I'm still shocked that Jay's here, cause he doesn't like me, but he's close to Jeff. I doubt he even knew Jeff was here, though.

_Die with the guilt of a thousand able soldiers. Die watch the sight usher me astray. _

Dean throws something in my general direction, a key. Jay throws one over too. Nic takes both of them and tries each one with my restraint, getting the collar off my neck with the second one. My body leans forward and I stop myself as best I can with my right arm, but I can't get back up. Nic throws the other key to Anderson and Sandow, then pulls my arm across his shoulders and lifts me to my feet, wrapping his arm around my waist. I want to thank him, but I can't seem to form words, I'm too shocked. I also want to break down crying at the thought that this nightmare might finally be over. But I can't do that, it'd be the only thing that could possibly make me look any weaker than I already do. I can't stop trembling, I'm worried to death that all these people are putting themselves in harm's way for me.

_I can't go on this way, not as I am today. The other side of me is strong. _

I just stare at Jay for a second while he mounts Hunter and wails on him. "You took _everything_ from me!" He yells as he smashes his fist into Hunter's face. "You pushed me around for fucking years and got away with it! You fucking prick, you're trying to do it again!" _What the hell did Hunter even do to Jay? _"Payback's a fucking bitch, you sick bastard! I was so afraid of you for so long, and I'm **not** anymore. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this." He says, somewhat eerily calm. He pulls Hunter up by his hair and gives him a smoldering glare. "Yeah, I can finally fucking look you in the eye." Jay's knuckles are bleeding, and Hunter's entire face is covered in blood. "Never again. Never a-fucking-gain."

_Taking my loaded gun, hold back on all who run, the cowards truth inside__the rum. _

A short scream to my left snaps me out of my trance, my mind leaves Jay and goes to Jeff, reminding me of the broken ribs he has. "Nic," I whisper.

"Yeah?"

"His ribs are broken." He turns to Anderson and Sandow.

"Careful with him. Broken ribs."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem, Punk. We're busting you guys out of this shithole."

_This means war._

I turn to see how Jeff is handling it. He's got an arm around each of their shoulders, their arms around his lower back. Seth is calling 911 while Adam and Ryder have taken up beating the hell out of Paul and Hunter. Nic looks at me concernedly. "How are you still alive?" I lean my head on his shoulder.

"I have no idea."

_Lash your tongue of bane, carry me to nowhere._

"If anyone can do it, it's you." My breathing comes as grunts. Standing up is way more work than I remember it being.

"Nic?"

"Mmm?"

"Can we sit down?"

"Sure." He helps me walk to the stairs and sits next to me. "Are you okay?"

"No, not at all."

_Mental holocaust battle never ends, lie that's the pain of a child who's forsaken. _

"I don't expect you to be. How long have they had you?"

"Sunday night."

"Honestly?"

"Brock, Randal and Kane have dropped by too. What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Why would they do this to me, Nic?"

_Lie to myself, praise the new relieve. _

"I don't know." He pauses and glances at me guiltily.

"Thank you for saving me."

"It was Dean's plan."

"You're still here, though. I don't know how much longer I would've lasted."

"Until?"

"They wanted to break me. I really did try to hold out, Nic. Harder than I ever had. But I was really close to giving them what they wanted." He looks at me for a long time, silently. Just looks at me.

"They really got you believing this is your fault, don't they? It's not. You're innocent. They're completely nuts… I'm just sorry we couldn't get here sooner." I run my fingers lightly over the wounds on my abdomen and wince. I try to tell myself that no one is going to try to hurt me anymore. I just have a hard time believing it. "We need to get you to a hospital. Seth called an ambulance."

"Why's Jay here? He can't stand me."

"It's professional jealousy. He respects you. We all do. No one wants to see this kind of fucked up shit happen to you."

"Hunter and Paul did."

"Fuck them."

"And they're going to jail?"

"You're damn right they are." I see the fire he has in his eyes and it makes me sad. I used to have that. They blew it out like a candle.

"I'm still afraid," I say in a small voice, looking down at the ground.

"They can't get to you anymore." He wraps his arm around me and squeezes tight. "We won't let them." Anderson and Sandow are walking Jeff over to us. He's visibly angry. Nic and I slide to the side for him to sit down beside me.

"Welcome to hell, guys." I mumble, running a hand over the crack in my skull.

"How are you holding up?" Damien asks me.

"I've been better." That's putting it lightly.

"Well I can see that."

Anderson stands quietly to my left. I haven't seen him in forever. I feel a little safer, but part of me wonders if I'll ever be able to stop looking for people who want to hurt me at every corner. Jeff is glaring at me. _What is wrong with him? _I put my head in my hands.

"Where are we?"

"Grover Beach, small coastline city in California. In the middle of nowhere, it seems." Nic tells me.

"How did you find us then?" My words come out slow and slurred. This is a lot to take in.

"Hunter gave Dean the address when he tried to threaten him into… well, you know." I tense up when he says that. He pats my thigh. "Relax, relax." Confusion then clouds over his face as he looks over at Jeff. "I thought you two hated each other." Jeff hacks up a lung beside me and I squeeze his leg lightly to try and calm him down. He slaps my hand away and I'm a little taken aback. I'll explain it, I guess.

"That was the idea. The McMahons hate him and he didn't want me getting punished for it. So we tried to convince everyone we hated each other, and it worked."

_I left me long ago, reasons you'll never know. No one to miss me when I'm gone. _

"How did Jeff get tied up in this then?" Anderson asks, leaning against the wall and cracking his knuckles absent mindedly. Jeff speaks up this time, but his voice notes with something bordering malice.

"I idiotically went looking for him." For the first time he seems upset with me for getting him into this. There are still grunts and dull smacks to my left. I look over to see that Dean and Jay must be really, really angry because they haven't let up and show no signs of relenting. Zack and Adam have backed off, and they join us by the steps. I can see pity in their expressions, all of them. Old me would've said that I didn't want their pity, but now I understand why and sort of feel like my current condition calls for it. "They broke his arm." Jeff says, but he sounds almost happy about it.

**"They** **broke your arm?" **Zack and Adam ask, dumbstruck.

"Yeah, Brock did." I explain. Damien calls over to Rollins.

"Seth, are they almost here?"

"Any minute now." Seth is pacing like a caged animal. Nic has been staring at me for a while now.

"What?"

"I've been trying really, really hard not to look at it… but there's something massively wrong with your stomach." I grimace at the memory, then lean back carefully without touching my back to the steps below me, silently, to show Nic. "Weak?" He breathes, so quietly I can barely hear him.

"Kane did it," Jeff tells them. He actually sounds satisfied, like he revels at the thought.

"He didn't mean to," I jump to defend Glenn. "He didn't know what he was doing."

"He still did it." Jeff counters, he seems like he's enjoying himself. _The fuck?_

"_Kane_ did it. Glenn didn't."

"Oh, you mean his IED?" Adam puts two and two together. "Damn, he's terrifying when he's like that."

"It wasn't as bad as the goddamn cattle prod." I'm not trying to complain. I'm just bitter about it, it's the most pain I've ever been in.

"Jesus Christ, did they use the fucking kitchen sink on you too?" Sandow is getting hot.

"It's okay, don't freak out." I try to diffuse him instinctively. When people with more power than me get mad, I get hurt. That much is now, and probably will now always be painfully apparent to me.

_With no more words to say,_ no _one can make me stay._

Anderson's angry voice fills the basement with rage that he tries to contain, unsuccessfully.

"It's not 'okay'! The last thing this fucking thing is is okay!" I wince at the yelling involuntarily.

"Chill—" Adam puts a hand on his shoulder but Anderson shakes him off.

"No! They've brainwashed him! This shit they've done to you is not, I repeat, is **not** okay. It's not okay. You either, Jeff. It's fucking disgusting. It's worth freaking out about! You don't treat a human being this way, no matter what kind of grudge you hold against him." He's breathing hard. Everyone takes a step away from him but Jeff nods slowly.

"Maybe I deserved it." I mumble.

"Maybe you did." Jeff snaps. This is getting weird.

"You did not deserve to be locked up in a basement and tortured for a week." Nic says softly, quiet flames blazing in his words again. Then I hear sirens and flinch a little. I don't know why loud noises are bothering me, but they are. "That should be the police and an ambulance." Nic helps me get up off the stairs and Ryder does the same for Jeff. Four policemen pound down the steps, an EMT on their heels. My eyes widen a little, part of me hasn't realized that those sick fucks are actually going to jail. It's a good feeling, I haven't had a good feeling in a while. It's then that I realize who I'm surrounded by. It's all the people Hunter's buried over the years, or tried to. And Jay was leading the charge. Guess I'm not the only one with dangerous enemies. Everyone begins to surround Hunter as he picks something up from the ground. A gun, I realize as my blood freezes.

_Another post I don't belong, __this means war_

"He's got a gun!" I scream. "He's got a gun!" People rush towards him. He smiles and points it at his own head, cocking the hammer back and pulling the trigger. I dig my nails into Nic's shoulder and wince, expecting a bang. _Click_. Just a click. Hunter's smile evaporates as Jay starts laughing. The cops cuff Hunter's hands behind his back. Jay walks in front of him, still laughing as he drops three bullets at Hunter's feet.

"Looking for these?"

"You motherfucker!" Hunter screams. It's not surprising that Hunter would take the coward's way out of this. Jay is cheesing like he's ten years old as the cops restrain Hunter from him. He and Dean walk over to join us, but Dean's still staring a hole through Paul and Hunter. Adam walks over to Jay and Dean and puts a hand on each of their shoulders. It's unnerving how happy Jay is. Hunter must've done something really fucking wrong, Jay isn't usually this violent. Hunter's blood is on his face and as he shakes his split knuckles out, I see something in his eyes, satisfaction. Whatever it was, Jay got closure. Good for him. If, in some strange way, I helped him achieve that by being down here, I'm at least somewhat useful to the people who saved me, right? For the first time, Jay's eyes go to Jeff.

"Jeff?" He whispers, his eyes widening. Jeff gives a shadow of a smile.

"Present." He mumbles.

"Shit," Jay murmurs. Adam leads them over to our little mass by the steps. Jay pulls Jeff into a gentle hug as Jeff attempts to return it. "I'm so sorry, man."

"It's okay." I feel like I'm intruding just by watching them, so I turn away. It's all I can do not to break down when I look at Dean. He saved my life. He saved my life. Jay tears himself away and moves to a corner, away from everyone else. The EMT pulls Jeff and I aside. She just gawks at us for a couple seconds before swallowing hard and introducing herself as Alex. She says that she'll help us get back to normal, and that the men who did this didn't cause any irreparable physical damage. Key word there is 'physical'. She has a nice demeanor, but I can see it in her eyes that she's horrified. A couple years younger than Jeff and I, I assume mid 20's. I can see resentment in Jeff's eyes. Resentment of _me. _

_No home to call my own._

"We really should get you two to a hospital." She says. I blink slowly a couple times.

"I don't know about the stairs." I look at them and try to imagine climbing them when it's hard work to stay standing. Jay comes from the far corner he'd been leaning on, away from everyone else.

"I can help you." I look at him skeptically. My voice runs through my head, _you spend all your time bitching, and moaning, and bitching, and bitching, and bitching, and bitching, _and how fucking pissed he was about it. And that time I destroyed him, "sending a message to Jericho". I was mad that night, I don't even remember why. But I took it out on him, I was stiffer than I needed to be, and I hurt him. I don't think he's ever forgiven me for that. "Just because we don't like each other, that doesn't mean I'd ever want this to happen to you."

"Alright." He crouches a little and I put my good arm around his shoulders. He wraps his around my lower back and I groan, squinting my eyes shut.

_No finding someone new._

"Dammit." I curse. He leans back a little to look for the source of the problem.

"Holy fuck," he whispers.

"That bad?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Let's just go, I guess." I lean heavily on him as he walks me to the stairs. The guys move a little so we can get through. Every single step sends shockwaves of pain through me. We only get a couple steps up before I grab a handful of his t-shirt at the shoulder and turn my head away from him, biting the knuckle of my index finger in an effort not to make noise.

"Do you want to stop for a second?" I scream through clenched teeth as I fall a little trying to get to the next step and hit my arm on the wall.

"No."

"You're too tough for your own good." He shows a shadow of a grin, and it amazes me that this guy who I assumed hated me is here to help me get out of this place, _and_ he's trying to make me feel better. The going gets slower as every stair becomes a Herculean effort. We get about halfway there before Jay adjusts his arm a little lower behind my back, grabbing the waistband of my shorts and bearing almost all of my weight. I hold on tighter to his shirt as he practically carries me up the rest of the way. It would've upset me to give myself up to Reso so easily had not I known that I lacked the ability to climb the stairs under my own power. I can't help but wonder if I'd be this helpful if we switched places and it was him stuck in this basement. We finally reach the top and it surprises me how utterly ordinary it seems on the surface. An ordinary table and a couple of ordinary chairs sit ordinarily to my right. To my left a short hallway leads to a simple wood door, left open by my rescue team and never closed by the authorities. I try to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but my mind keeps going back to Jeff. It's like something snapped in his brain, it's like he's _become them_. Jay pauses a couple feet away from the door to wait for everyone to come up. I catch various bits of conversations. The first ones up are Anderson and Sandow.

_No one to break the fall._

"But why would they go this far?"

"Man I know Hunter's got a temper, but the guy can usually keep a freakin' lid on it."

Then it's Adam and Ryder. They have Jeff with them, and they're moving painstakingly slow. I remember Jeff spending an exceptionally long time underneath a certain King of Kings, and I've never seen anyone in a Boston crab for even close to that amount of time. I shudder. I woke up in the middle of it too, that wasn't even the beginning. He won't put any weight on his left leg.

"… They had it thought out perfectly."

"Fuck, what would've happened if Dean didn't figure this out?"

"I don't want to think about it." They take a while to make it all the way up. When Jeff makes eye contact with me, his fists clench and fury is easily conveyed through his eyes. I try to push my strained relationship with Jeff from my mind for the time being. It hits me that Hunter and Paul will be up here any minute now. I don't quite know how I feel about that. Sure enough, though, they're coming up next. Silently, to my surprise. I'm sure Dean is still cooling his jets downstairs with Seth. Nic is somewhere down there too. Man alive, if looks could kill, Paul and Hunter would be pushing up daisies, everyone is staring daggers at them. Hunter's face is still covered in blood. Jay smirks again. It's the nosy side of me that'd kill to know what Hunter did to Jay. Maybe just as confirmation that I'm not the only person that Hunter's fucked over. I lock eyes with Paul as they lead him out the door. He smiles and it still strikes fear into me. I can suddenly feel the chains around my wrists again. The tables have turned, but somehow it seems like Paul is still the one in control. He laughs, and for the first time I forget that I'm with my friends now. I feel all alone with Paul's eyes on me, sizing me up, plotting what he wants to do to me next. He's the one in cuffs, but I'm the one who's really helpless. I'm helpless to this complex he's put me in, the ever-present sense of fear and powerlessness. He did that to me, I couldn't stop him then and I can't stop it now.

"It doesn't matter!" He yells at me as the cops try to pull him away. "You know it doesn't! You ended up exactly how I wanted you, Punk! I won! You hear me? I won! You know I did!" I take a step back and try not to get upset over his words. I hear a couple murmurs of "don't listen to him" and "he's lost his mind" but they don't help. He's right. He is. Even if I'm not broken, I'll never be able to forget this. I'm never going to forget everything they did to me, or hearing Jeff's screams and knowing there was nothing I could do to save him. Or the fact that Paul is not my friend and never was. He loathed me the whole time. Paul did that, that's what Paul wanted. I can't take my eyes off of him as they force him out the door. _He did this to you. Him and Hunter, _a little voice in the back of my head says. _They did this, and you know that if they really wanted to, they could do it all again. _They're piled into two separate police cars, and as they pull out I hear more voices come up from downstairs. Nic is walking up with Alex, the EMT.

"They got really messed up."

"I need to get them in an ambulance and to a hospital."

"Give them five minutes. It's a lot to take in." Various conversations still go on around me but the people I want to see are still downstairs. I hear a somewhat muffled loud, angry voice that I know belongs to Ambrose.

"They're lucky I didn't fucking kill them! I should've, you saw what they did to him!" A quieter one then.

"You have to calm down." Seth usually serves as the voice of reason for Dean. He sighs and a pounding noise emanates from downstairs. I assume that's either his fist or his head against the wall.

"I know."

"C'mon, let's go." As they start up the stairs the conversation takes a different turn.

"You know they're going to have to call him as a witness." Ambrose says matter-of-factly.

"How is he supposed to recount this entire thing to a room full of strangers?"

"He deserves justice. He can't get that until they know exactly what happened. I'll help get the evidence together to try and make it as easy as possible."

_No one to see me drown._

"They're going to want to do a full-scale investigation."

"Good." As Dean says it he reaches the top of the steps. I want to talk to him, but then something else catches his eye. "What's with the computer?"

"There's a computer?" Nic asks.

"Yeah, right here." Ambrose walks to the right of the staircase, behind the wall ending the room with the table in it.

"Well what's on it?" Alex starts towards one of the ambulances and rolls a gurnee out from one of them. For Jeff, I presume. A couple more EMT's come back with her. As they load Jeff up, I hear something come from the computer that turns my blood to ice. A noise. A noise I recognize because I'm the one who made it. A scream. My scream. Coming from the computer. I glance at Jeff before staring frozenly in Dean's direction. I know I didn't see it wrong. There was a twisted smirk on his face. From the dialogue and sounds that follow, I think it's from the first night, when Brock took a belt to my back. I can't be certain though, because the noise freezes me and everything after sounds underwater.

"Fuck! Turn it off!" Someone yells.

"It won't turn off!"

"Then get him out of here!" I feel a lot of people around me and a lot of hands touching me. My thoughts come in slow motion. _Why was my voice coming from that computer? _It takes me a while to piece it together. _They __**filmed**__ the whole thing! They watched it when they weren't with us!_

_This means war!_

_A/N: I am not in any way saying that suicide is cowardly. I myself considered it for a long time and hated people who judged it as such. I'm simply saying that killing yourself instead of facing the punishment of the crime you committed is the coward's way out. _

_Thank you for your constant open-mindedness and acceptance._

_-SOSXE_

Reviews?


	36. Chapter 36: Coming Home

Chapter 36: Coming Home

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: COMING HOME BY AVENGED SEVENFOLD

_I've been away, searching for a reason, another purpose to find._

Someone lays me down and straps me to something. That freaks me out because all I was for the past week is strapped down. Bad things happen to me when I'm strapped down. I don't know any of these people… what if they've come to take me back to Hunter and Paul? But every move hurts and I can't do anything.

_I've sailed the seas, fought my many demons, I've looked to gods in the skies._

I've put my life into the hands of the few brave people who liberated me, whether I wanted to or not. But I do not trust these cold people with their unfeeling hands and sharp poking things. For all I know, they got those things from Paul and Hunter's table and they're carrying out their unfinished plan. I do not know these people and I do not want to be near them when I'm this weakened.

_I've stood in hell, where many had to suffer, I've stared the devil in the eyes. _

"Nic," I call out weakly. Nic has made me feel safe since he's gotten here. Nic was the first friendly human contact I've had in a week. I hear more muddled voices and then I pick his out.

"Can I ride with him?" More noise and then he comes into my field of vision. I automatically relax. Nic will at least fight anyone who'd try to bring me back to Hunter and Paul. I try to think rationally that EMT's won't do anything malicious to me. But still, there's hands all over me and needles being stuck in me and everything hurts, and now I'm lying on my back which hurts more. "Hey, try to calm down buddy." He speaks softly.

_Walked many roads to witness ancient idols, and found the great gates of fire._

I blink in the bright light and try to focus on him. Nic is something I know to be constant. A siren starts up again and we lurch forward, I clench my fists as someone holds onto the thing I'm on to stop it from moving. There's a strap across my stomach, right on "WEAK" and it hurts like a motherfucker.

_And many storms questioned my conviction, gave armies reasons to rise. _

I feel Nic's hand on my shoulder, it's warm and friendly. I'm infinitely thankful for him being here, I'm infinitely thankful I'm not in this foreign place alone.

"How much longer?" I ask. I can't wait to get out of this screaming metal death trap.

_The hangman searching, for bones he can borrow, while I escaped in the night, full of life. _

"Five, ten minutes. Surprisingly enough, there isn't a hospital in nowhere-land." His voice bites with sarcasm. I'm used to it from him, but it's bitter and unfamiliar this time.

"Are you okay?" He laughs and looks at me admirably.

"I could ask you the same question. You have no business concerning yourself with **my **well-being. You've got enough on your plate as is."

_Live again, I'll return_, _I'll be coming home. _

"I know it must be hard, though."

"What, you mean seeing my boss as well as a man I respected attempt to demolish one of my closest friends? Nah. All in a day's work." More sarcasm. I'm starting to worry about him.

_Send your light, cause on this night, I'll be coming home_

"You're not acting like yourself."

"Nope, I'm fine." Still sarcasm. I work one of my hands out of the straps and place it on his knee.

"Look at me."

"Yes?"

_Escape the hell, look at your latent mourners, and drink the blood of a king. _

I stare at him for a second.

"It's okay not to be okay." He looks sad.

"You didn't deserve this. I wish it had been me instead."

"Trust me, you don't."

"But why you?"

"I can tell you once we get somewhere that stands still." He sighs.

"The going is gonna be rough for a while yet. There's a lot of things you need fixed, and it's not exactly smooth sailing."

"None of this has been smooth sailing." Talking is getting harder and harder.

"I just want it to be over for you. No one should ever have to be in this much pain." I cough and it jars my whole body. I make a face.

"Jeff isn't much better."

_The deserving has lost their way, direction. And angels looking after me, so it says. _

"I'm worried about **you**. I feel bad for the guy but I hardly know him."

"I know you love his wrestling."

_Live again, I'll return_, _I'll be coming home. _

"Who doesn't?"

"You make a good point."

_Send your light, cause on this night, I'll be coming home._

My face falls as I remember something important. "Nic."

"Hmm?"

"He took my ring." His eyes go to my hands.

"I'll kill him."

"No. Is there any chance it's still around?"

"I'm not the right person to ask."

"Dean?"

"Mmhm. Shit, that's crossing the fucking line."

"Yeah, they crossed a whole bunch of lines." The ambulance comes to a stop. "Finally."

_My story ends, not far from where it started, my weary limbs have grown old. _

A couple bright hallways, a dozen doctors and a lot of horrified expressions later I'm in a room with two more doctors. Nic is still by my side, explaining the situation for the umpteenth time. I feel like sleeping but there's too much stuff going on around me. I figure they're going to ask me questions anyways. I rub my hands up and down my arms. From dark, freezing basement to bright, freezing hospital, surprise, surprise, I'm still freezing. Having already lost my shirt and my socks, the rest of me is drenched in cold sweat.

_I've seen the world through the eyes of a nomad. _

Staring at the IV in my arm, I listen to Nic's haphazard explanation. He doesn't know too much about what happened.

"… There for a whole week… don't know what they did… broken arm… weapons… crazy…" I catch bits and pieces, and I can already tell they're going to have to run a bunch of tests. He finishes telling them what he knows and attention turns to me. I can feel their scrutiny and I figure I look like hell. I don't know everything that's wrong with me, but I know it's a lot. One of them puts a blanket over my lap and asks me to sit up. They ask Nic to leave and he tells me that he'll be back when they let him. But then my heart starts racing and I can't breathe and a machine next to me starts beeping. I gasp and sit bolt upright, my hands going to my throat. I can see someone rush towards me out of the corner of my eye. A mask goes over my face and a muddy voice tells me to take deep breaths. It makes everything go away and I sink back to the bed, my blurry vision giving way to darkness.

_Home is where the heart is I've been told, so I go._

Reviews?


	37. Chapter 37: The Strays

Chapter 37: The Strays

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: THE STRAYS BY SLEEPING WITH SIRENS

_Hubcaps and ashtrays, _

••••

DIDJA MISS ME? Well regardless, I'm back again. After all, time didn't freeze after Punk passed out. I'm here once again to bridge the gap. Do you know that people call me crazy? Unstable, even? They write it on t-shirts, and make money off it! How dare they call me unstable! I'm obviously the sanest person Punk could find, otherwise, why would he let me write in his story? Uhm, don't tell Seth I said that… I don't care if my logic is flawed, I'm sticking with it. Well, let's get back to the action.

_I was born but wasn't raised._

I've been sitting in the waiting room for hours with Seth. They won't let us in yet but I'll wait as long as it takes. He went off to the cafeteria to sift through the hospital food in hopes of finding something edible. I told him to go without me. I can't eat right now anyway. I'm too high strung. I bounce my knee nervously and stare at the generically colored linoleum floor below me. Too upset to play some mindless game on my phone, which I hardly even understand. Too distracted to walk around. Too worried to leave. Too disturbed to sleep.

_The big wheel, the black space. _

I hear soft footsteps and I turn in their direction, eager for some kind of reprieve from the crushing reality of this situation and my own thoughts.

_Tried my best, but wasn't praised._

As soon as I see Chuck Taylors I jump to my feet. "AJ!" I exclaim, probably too loud but she surprised me. She looks upset. That's an understatement, actually, but I don't blame her in the least.

_Hell is so close to Heaven, _

She stops in her tracks and looks up at me. I'm over a foot taller than her, but I hardly ever notice. She has a big personality, but it seems small and desperate today. Some people become their gimmicks. Others' gimmicks become them. April and Punk are products of the latter, I'm a victim of the former. Either way, becoming a wrestler changes you.

_Hell is so close to Heaven. _

"What happened to him?"

_Hold on, _

"You don't know?"

_don't look back, _

"No one will tell me."

_you know we're better, we're better than that._

I give her the information I know, staring at the ground.

"So you know he went missing on Sunday night. And Vince told us all that he went to visit troops overseas with Paul and Brock after their match, and that Hunter went along as an ambassador. We all thought something was up, cause your average village idiot knew that Punk hated Hunter, and he'd never willingly spend more time with him than was absolutely necessary. We also knew that he'd always tell you about something like that before it happened. Then he wouldn't answer his phone. That's all stuff we knew."

_Lost and thrown away, _

"But here's where it gets weird. I get this strange phone call from Hunter late on Tuesday night. He said somethin about how I needed to meet him in this alley, alone, and that the fate of WWE has come into question, something weird like that." I continue my staring contest with the hospital floor as I go on with my story.

_you know we're better, we're better than that._

"And I automatically think 'isn't Hunter supposed to be overseas?', but I couldn't just say that, so I just said that I would."

_We are the strays, _

"There were a thousand questions I wanted to ask, but knowing Hunter, I figured he wouldn't answer any of them over the phone anyway."

_we are the strays._

"I show up to this alley at the time he wants me to, and he gives me this insane scheme he has about wanting me to rape Punk."

_Train tracks to the stage, _

"Long story short, after a lot of threats and a very disturbing photograph, he gets me to cave and say that I'll do it. He leaves me with the address of the place and just goes. I have a freak out," I don't say panic attack. Not because I don't trust her, but because she has enough to deal with without concerning herself with my messed up childhood. "So I call Seth, and then I black out. One of the stipulations of the deal Hunter forced me into was that I couldn't tell anyone, especially not Seth."

_play that role, the one you made. _

"He came to get me out of that alley and we went back to our hotel, but the whole thing was eating me alive. Eventually I came to the conclusion that Hunter had no way of knowing whether I told Seth or not. Around the time I figured that out, I figured out that I didn't really have to do it. I talked it through with Seth, and that's when we came up with our plan. Their first mistake was giving me the address. Using that mistake, we saw that they'd have no way of knowing whether people followed me or not. The second was giving me so much time. We used that time to call all the people we knew who'd help, and get a miniature army together. The third and final mistake was leaving the door open. After I came into the house, they didn't lock it behind me. All I had to do was stall for a couple minutes until Seth came with the cavalry. Luckily, Punk catches on very quickly, and he was very helpful in the effort of wasting time. Unluckily, what I came upon when I got there, it was God awful."

_Long nights and the worst days, _

"Words can't describe the horrors that house contained. For one thing, it contained Jeff Hardy. They tortured them. Hunter and Paul, and at some point Brock, Randy and Kane. Not Glenn. Kane."

_lived it all, but I didn't break._

"They kept him there for five days. I only wish I could've gotten there sooner. The rest, as they say, is history. "

When I look up again, there are tear tracks on her face and it crushes a little part of me. I sit down on a bench chair, one that's like two chairs attached to each other with no arm in the middle. I pat the seat next to me. "C'mere." She sits next to me and I put an arm around her.

_Hell is so close to Heaven, _

Between quiet sobs she asks me,

"You saved him, didn't you?"

"It wasn't just me."

"But you figured it out, right?"

"Yeah."

_Hell is so close to Heaven._

She buries her face in my t-shirt and wraps an arm around my waist.

"Thank you. You saved my baby's life. Thank you." She whispers into me. I rub her back softly. I'd feel bad acting this way with my friend's wife if we were in any other situation. But we're not, and she needs someone who understands how she feels.

"We might be here until morning." She just cries softly. "We got him here around three in the afternoon, and I heard he needs surgery."

"Why?" It comes out muffled.

"The only people who could answer that are him, Jeff and the doctors."

"Is Jeff okay?"

"I don't really know. He's got his own support system here."

_Hold on, don't look back, _

"Do you know what exactly they," she swallows hard, "did to him?"

"_I_ know what they did_, _but I really don't think you want to hear it. He can tell you himself if he wants you to know. That's not my place to decide. I do have somewhat of an idea what resulted, that I can tell you. From what the doctors told me, he's got a major concussion, 2nd and 3rd degree burns, a compound fracture of his left arm, he needed 15 staples in his head, some water in his lungs, bruised ribs and one fractured one. They really did a number on him, Ape."

_you know we're better, we're better than that. _

She nods as I list them off and cracks her knuckles listlessly, but I know she's still crying. I'm silent for a while. _How did such shitty stuff happen to such good people? _

"There's something you're not telling me. You know something I don't. I'm his wife, Dean. I want to know as much as I can about this." I didn't want to talk about the video with her. I thought it was more than she needed to know. It was more than _I_ needed to know.

_Lost and thrown away,_

Goosebumps rise up on my skin as I try to figure out the right way to say it.

"We were all upstairs as they were putting Jeff in an ambulance. I came up the stairs with Seth and I saw a computer that everyone else missed. So, of course I check it out, because it's a weird thing in a weird house in a weird situation and I just wanted to get all the information I could. But it…" I trail off remembering that moment. It all happened so fast. I force down my own emotions for her sake.

_you know we're better, we're better than that! _

"I turned it on and I didn't touch anything else, but the moment it came up I knew it was a mistake." I shake my head and take a deep breath. "Because a sound came out of the speaker… it was him, AJ. Him screaming curses and just flat out screaming in pain. They took video of all the shit they did to him." I try not to get angry. She deserves the whole story, and I need to calm the fuck down and give it to her. "But the image was worse. It was Paul and Brock Lesnar. They had his hands tied up above his head and Brock was," I hesitate when her grip on my arm gets harder.

"Keep going," she says in a small voice.

_We are the strays, _

She's always been brave. She's a lot like him. It never surprised me that they ended up together.

_we are the strays. _

"Brock was whipping him with a belt. That's what I didn't mention earlier. I don't know how to put it into words, but his back is messed up. _Really_ messed up. It went on for what seemed like forever. The sound of it was freaking Punk out, and I couldn't get it to turn off. So they get him out of there and into an ambulance, but uh… I had to watch the whole thing. Some more than just that video, too. Because I'm going to help him through what he needs to do as a witness at the trial, so I needed to know the facts. Fuck, I'd do anything to get that out of my head, though." She's in hysterics now, hard sobs wracking her small frame. Part of me says I told her way too much, and the other half says that given the choice, she'd've wanted the truth. I can hardly look at her after hearing those things Paul said about her. _Hey, Punk, tell me; what's crazy gonna do when she finds out you like Jeff's pussy better than hers? You're so easy. Oh wait, no, that's AJ, isn't it?_ Disgusting. I squeeze her tighter to me and do what I can to comfort her. "It's okay, he's out now, he'll be okay, he'll be okay. He'll be real happy to see you when they let us in."

"Why him, Dean?" She whispers into me.

"I've been asking myself the same question." We sit there for a long time without saying a word. This is a lot to take in, and _**I**_ haven't even processed it all yet.

"Is Brock going to get away with this?" She twists her head to look in my eyes.

"It's up to Punk, really. We have the evidence, it's just a matter of pride." Footsteps come from the opposite direction of where AJ came. I can tell before I look that it's Seth. I turn my head toward him. He's got two bottles of water and stares at his running shoes as he walks quietly over to us. He looks up when he gets close.

"Hey."

"Welcome to hell, Seth. We've been expecting you."

"What's wrong now?"

"AJ's here. She's not taking it so well." I whisper.

"Well, what do you expect?" His sits next to me and leans out to see her.

"How're you holding up?" She sniffs and lays her head on my shoulder.

"I've been better."

"Anything I can do?"

"Not unless you can tell me this is just a nightmare and I'll wake up soon."

_My whole life they said I'd be nothing, well I'm something. _

He bites his lip and looks down.

"I got you some water." He hands the bottles to me and I give one of them to AJ, taking a drink from the other and offering some back to him. He takes it from my hand and drinks a sip of it before capping it and putting it between us. He reaches for my hand and I take his, squeezing tight. He looks at me with those eyes and man, everything seems okay for a second. But it's not. I have a small conversation with him without saying a word. It expressed how much I wanted to hold him but that AJ needed us right now. He gets it. He usually does. I stare at the doors in front of me unwaveringly until a doctor comes through them that I recognize from before, but I don't remember his name. AJ straightens up when he walks in, and Seth squeezes my hand a little harder. He gives us a tentative smile and raises his eyebrows a little at AJ.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Bailey. Who might you be?" She stands up when he introduces himself, and he holds out his hand.

"I'm his wife." His smile fades a little.

"Well my condolences for what's transpired with your husband, Mrs. Brooks. I just came to tell Mr. Good and Mr. Lopez that I had an update on their friend. I'm sure you'd be interested as well." She sits back down and I put an arm around her. "His blood pressure was spiking out of control, the human body can only handle so much pain. So we had to put him under, and we're administering morphine in an effort to get it back to normal, and make him more comfortable, if we can." She bristles at the word 'morphine'.

"He wouldn't want to be on painkillers."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Brooks, but with the condition he's in there really is no other alternative. We have to perform surgery on his arm, but the earliest you'll be able to see him that he'll be responsive would be tomorrow morning." He gives her an apologetic look before returning through the doors. I rub her shoulder slowly.

"It'll be okay, he'll be okay."

_And I would rather be the stray, than be nothing to no one at all. _

Reviews?


	38. Chapter 38: Salvation

Chapter 38: Salvation

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: SALVATION BY SKILLET

_All alone, lost in this abyss, crawling in the dark._

••••

I'm in the easier part now, now was when I started seeing my friends again. Not out of the woods yet, but closer. Haven't had a bad nightmare in months. I hope this worked out for Jeff as well as it has for me. People underestimate the power of friendship. It moves mountains. It took me a long time to fix the trust issues I developed after Paul, but being surrounded by all the people I trust who didn't turn their back on me and go into a psychotic rampage certainly helps. I don't think I could've got through without them. And I know I'd never get anywhere without April.

_Nothing to wet my longing lips, and I wonder where you are. _

When I wake up there's a lot that's changed. There's tubes going in and out of me, my whole midsection is wrapped up in gauze, my wrists are wrapped, my ankles are wrapped, there's something around my head, my arm is in a cast, the light hurts and the room spins a little, I don't exactly remember who I am, where I am and what happened, and the pain is numb.

_Are you far? _

_Shit, the pain is numb! _One of these tubes must be feeding me painkillers.

_Will you come to my rescue? _

It makes me mad but my attention is called from it by a doctor opening the door. My basic knowledge comes back in fuzzy, incomplete waves.

"Mr. Brooks, I'm the resident orthopedic surgeon here." He approaches the side of the bed and holds his hand out. I shake it and glance surreptitiously at my broken arm, all cast-ed up.

_Am I left to die? _

"I needed surgery?"

"Yes, you had a compound fracture of your radius and ulna bones. In essence, your forearm was broken clean, all the way through." That explains the two snaps I heard. "Besides that, you've got some second and third degree burns, bruised ribs and one fractured one, major defensive and bondage wounds, and some serious tissue damage of your back. You needed 15 staples in your head along with a major concussion, there was water in your lungs that needed to be pumped out, you're dehydrated, and somewhat malnourished. Unfortunately, you're going to have to spend some time here. However, you do have a visitor."

_But I can't give up on you. _

"Did you put me on painkillers?"

"Yes, your wife warned me you wouldn't like it, but I'm afraid I must insist. Your blood pressure went through the roof without it." I sigh.

"Who is it?"

"I'll let her in. Take it easy, Mr. Brooks." He leaves the door open behind him when he leaves. AJ walks through it and I smile genuinely for the first time in I-can't-remember-how-long.

_I feel you keeping me alive, you are my salvation. _

It feels like I haven't seen her in ages.

_Touch you, taste you, feel you here, oh yeah._

She puts her hand to her mouth upon first glance and pulls a chair to the side of my bed. My duffel bag is slung over her shoulder, it looks three sizes too big for her. She pushes my hair back with her hand and smiles sadly.

_I feel you keeping me alive, you are my salvation. _

She's got soft hands. I cover hers with mine and she drops it down to hold my hand.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

_Hold me, heal me, keep me near_, _oh yeah._

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit by a car, and then the car backed over me, and waited for me to get up so it could run me over again. I think Paul was driving the car and Hunter was in the passenger seat."

"Seems the sarcasm is still intact."

"It's here to stay."

"Perfect."

_My heart will burn for you__, i__t's all I can do. _

She pushes the bag with her shoe. Chuck Taylors, I notice. Of course. "Seth found your bag in the house." At first I don't pay it mind and then I remember.

"Ape, they took my ring." Her face falls.

"We can—"

"Hold on, check if it's in the bag." She leans forward and starts to sift through the contents.

_Been out from under who I am, and who I want to be. _

Pulling out a small ball of washcloth, she hands it to me.

"This might be it." My hands start to shake as I undo it, knowing there must be something up and worrying about something happening in front of her. My breath catches as the white gold falls into my lap. In disbelief I hold it up.

"How…" my eyes blur with tears as I hold it tight in my hand. She reaches out and grabs onto my wrist as I slide my ring back onto my finger for the first time in a week. I look back to the washcloth. _Where's the catch?_ It can't be this easy. I shake it out, but nothing. My only guess is that they planned on breaking it in front of me. In any case, this is a more than pleasant surprise.

_Held you tightly in my hands, why are we unraveling? _

I look back to her brown eyes, dark with concern. I frown lightly.

"Don't you worry too much about me."

"You think I can help it?"

_Was it me?_

I sit up a little to kiss her. That's something I missed for sure.

"I missed you. Thought about you a lot. Thinking about you got me through it." She smiles for real this time, her face lighting up like it does. She runs a hand through her long, dark hair.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

_Will you come to my rescue? _

She runs her eyes up and down me again and her expression darkens.

"Wh—"

"Please don't ask me why they'd do it to me, I don't really know. Try to keep it in the past, April. The important thing is that it's over and I'll be back to annoy everyone else in WWE soon enough."

"Are you going to tell me what they did to you?"

"You don't want to know." She furrows her eyebrows.

"That is what _everyone_ has been telling me. I am **not** made of glass. I'm small, but I'm not fragile. You **know** that. You **know** it bothers me when people assume that. I do **not** have a delicate personality. You're **not** going to shatter me by telling me the truth. You're my baby, and I **want to know **what happened."

_Or did I push too far when I turned my back on you?_

I scratch the back of my head with my good arm and shrug my shoulders.

"You're right."

"Of course I am." She smiles.

_I feel you keeping me alive, you are my salvation. _

I look at the tubes around me, and shift to the side, lifting up the ones on my left. "Come over here." She lays down next to me, and I put my broken arm around her shoulders as she leans her head on my chest.

_Touch you, taste you, feel you here, oh yeah._

I go through the whole story in as much detail as I can, stroking her hair absently. I start at the hotel and finish at the hospital, pushing on even though she sobs into me the whole time.

_I feel you keeping me alive, you are my salvation. _

_She deserves the truth. She wouldn't want me to sugarcoat it. _I hardly realize that I've been crying too until I finish. I wipe her cheeks with my thumb and then drag the back of my hand across my own face.

_Hold me, heal me, keep me near, oh yeah._

"I'm sorry about Paul." How she knew that was the thing that hurt the most out of all of this, I'll never know. She's just that freaking intuitive, I guess. I kiss the top of her head.

"I am too. But guess what?"

"What?"

"I won. And I have you. So I won twice." She looks up at me and smiles, shifting to kiss me. I return it softly and smile into her.

"We've got loads of time for that when you get out of here."

_My heart will burn for you_, _i__t's all I can do. _

Reviews?


	39. Chapter 39: Fuckin' Perfect

Chapter 39: Fuckin' Perfect

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: FUCKIN' PERFECT BY P!NK

_Made a wrong turn once or twice, _

It was heaven to spend an hour or two with AJ, but when she left a whole different kind of surprise replaced her.

"Hey man." I just stare at them for a minute.

"Hey," I reply softly. Rollins takes Ambrose's hand and leads him to the side of my bed, where they drag up two chairs and sit down.

_dug my way out, blood and fire. _

I rake a hand through my hair and kind of stare straight ahead. "I swear to Jeebus, if I look at you two, I'm gonna start crying." They both laugh. It's a happy noise, unlike all the sinister laughs I heard in the basement.

"That's alright, we'll probably cry too," Rollins replies. I can hear the smile in his voice.

_Bad decisions, that's alright. _

I push myself up to more of a sitting position and turn my gaze to them. I can feel the tears in my eyes right away, but I force them down for the time being.

"Where would I be if not for you?" I ask them. "Still in a basement. That's for sure. I honestly don't even know what to say, when I owe this much to someone."

_Welcome to my silly life._

Ambrose cocks his head to the side.

_Mistreated, _

"You don't owe us jack shit."

_misplaced, _

"Screw that man, I owe my life to you." He smiles modestly.

_misunderstood, _

"No you don't. It was just as much you, hanging in there like you did."

_Miss "no way it's all good", _

"Yeah, man. Rescue teams don't help none when there's no one to rescue. We never would've found you if Hunter hadn't threatened to kill you." Rollins adds.

_it didn't slow me down. _

He looks between Dean and I. "But I think you guys have stuff you might want to talk about on your own." He gets up and leans down to kiss Dean. "I'll be in the waiting room. I love you."

"Love you too." Rollins closes the door on his way out and I just stare at Dean for a minute.

_Mistaken, _

It sets in with me what a fluke my rescue was.

_always second guessing, _

It was one in a million. It shouldn't have happened, I should still be down there.

_Underestimated, _

I don't know what I did to be that lucky, but I'll never forget what the man in front of me did for me.

_look, I'm still around. _

"So they threatened to kill me? They wouldn't have gone through with it. They were trying to scare you. They had every intention to keep me alive and watch me suffer, slowly waste away." Dean looks shaken up. I don't blame him. It's a lot to take in.

_Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect. _

"Yeah…" he looks at me soberly. "I'm gonna be honest with you about all of this. Hunter met with me in a dark alley at 4 am and said if I didn't agree to rape you, he'd bury Seth and, I quote, 'smear you across a wall, and maybe even kill you.' But his hamartia was that he gave me two days and the address. He said that if I told Seth the 'deal was off'. So at first I thought I didn't have a choice, but then I realized that Hunter has no way of knowing if I tell Seth or not. So over the course of that two days I got a group of guys together to bust you out. They drove five minutes behind me, and it went off without a hitch."

_Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me._

"I'm still surprised you got Jay to come."

"He's got some kind of major problem with Hunter."

"Don't we all."

"He's a decent guy, really." It's time someone addressed the elephant in the room.

"What did you see, Dean?" I ask, dead serious. He looks to the floor.

"All of it." I fall back on the bed, defeated, as my cheeks start to flush.

_You're so mean when you talk about yourself, you are wrong. _

He saw me scream for them. He saw me beg for them. He saw me cry for them. He saw me give in, give them what they wanted from me. He saw me in the most pain I've ever been in. He saw Paul disown me and tear me apart from the inside out. He saw them pick me apart mentally by picking Jeff apart physically. He saw it all. He saw everything that I never wanted anyone to see, everything I'm ashamed of. "Hey," he says, causing me to look directly up into his blue eyes, cold on television but fierce and full of passion in real life. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, if that's what you're thinking." I scoff.

"I thought we were being honest." That must've struck a nerve with him.

_Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead._

He stands straight up.

"**CM Punk, you are a man that I have respected, admired and looked up to since the moment I stepped into this business. You basically took me under your wing when I came up to the main roster, you gave me someone to relate to, and someone I could trust. You are one of the most courageous, strong-willed and ****spirited**** men that I know. If anything, seeing that stuff made me think higher of you. You want to know why? Faced with the shit that you and Jeff were, anyone else would've crumbled within the first night. **_**I**_** would've given up in the time you spent down there. You fought tooth and nail as hard as you possibly could and you didn't let them break you.****Tell me why."**He's really intense, almost angry, so filled with emotion. I'm caught by surprise.

"I guess there's something in me that can't stand losing when there's a way to win."

_So complicated, look how big you'll make it, _

He smiles and his tone softens.

"But man, you gotta realize that you're only human. No matter what they said to you, it's impossible to go through that stuff without being affected by it. Especially the mind games they played with you. It's not your fault they set their sights on destroying you. It's not your fault that they knew how to. It's not your fault they're manipulative bastards. You utilized the things you could control, which is the only thing you could've done."

"Uhm, Dean?"

"Mm?"

"In the basement, you said something about you knowing how I would feel, and how it scarred you for life. That was just an act, right?"

"No. Not at all."

_What?_

He sits back down and starts bouncing his knee nervously, the heel of his shoe tapping the ground in rhythm. "Listen, I know how you feel right now, at this moment, to some extent. Not just how you would've felt. But I know that too." I raise my eyebrows and sit up again.

_filled with so much hatred, such a tired game. _

"I told you I'm being honest, and I intend to do just that. Every last goddamn thing I said down there was true, everything except that I was going to rape you. I don't go around just telling this to everybody, and outside of Seth you're the only one who will know. But you _need_ to know so you can understand that I know where you're coming from, and maybe you'll believe the things I tell you after." He takes a deep breath and presses a hand hard against his leg to stop it from jittering. "What do you know about my childhood?" I'm a little taken aback.

"Um, nothing specific… I know it was rough, that's about it." He laughs, but not in a happy way. Like what I said was ironic or something.

"Yeah, something like that. I grew up in the projects of Cincinnati, and my family was dirt poor. They could've given two shits about me. The heating in our house worked about half the time, I slept on the floor, didn't eat a ton. My dad drank, a lot. In turn, he beat me, a lot. It escalated pretty quickly, he broke my ankle and dislocated my shoulder a couple times. That's why I can make that birdcall noise with it. I was used to it. But one night, things went different…" he trails off for a second. "He uh… he brought in two strangers, they beat me up some, broke my ribs, kicked me down the basement stairs. Took my shirt, taped my hands behind my back and they…they gang raped me. I was twelve." I blink confusedly. **Raped** him?

_It's enough, I've done all I can think of, _

"But I'm telling you this because he made me feel like it was my fault. For _years_ I believed him. I convinced myself that every time he did it, it was because I did something to deserve it. My dad broke me. He had me broke and broken. I thought I'd be broken for the rest of my life. That same scrawny street rat of a kid for the rest of my life. I believed him when he said I'd never amount to anything. I wished I was dead. You might've too. To this day I have panic disorder thanks to him. Things trigger these panic attacks and I see him and the basement and I smell blood and I hear their words in my ear, telling me I was a whore, telling me I was stupid, and worthless, and that I asked for it. It all comes back and I can't breathe and things get fuzzy and I usually black out. I had one after Hunter confronted me in the alley. Point is, when I ran away at 16 I still had days where I felt like I was weak, that I could've prevented it, that I didn't have to give in so easily, that I shouldn't have begged him, or screamed, or cried but I was _wrong_. It was rape, plain and simple. It was on him, he's the sick bastard who thinks raping his kid is okay."

_chased down all my demons, _

"Don't you get it man? It's the same thing for you. Let's dissect a part quick. Like when Kane showed up. It's not your fault Glenn has IED. It's not your fault that Paul exploited it. It's not your fault that they rendered you helpless. You have to stop blaming yourself. That's exactly what they want you to do."

I'm floored. I had no idea Dean was sexually abused as a kid. I have an immediate impulse to track down the old man and kick his ass. I feel a big brother-like responsibility over Dean's well-being. Seems like I'm the only one who ever has. It infuriates me to think someone did this to him, let alone his own father. The kid was twelve years old for God's sake! And his dad took advantage of him and stole his innocence. It makes my blood boil. I try to calm myself down for his sake, but the words fall out of my mouth before my mind processes them. "I'll kill the sick motherfucker, I swear to God. I'll kill him! That never should've fucking happened! All three of them, I'll beat them into a fucking pulp!" I'm stopped by his hand on my good wrist.

"Calm down."

"No! You're a good kid, you've come so far, and you came from all that shit? You should be dead, it's a miracle that you aren't. Dean, that is wrong on so many levels. You're supposed to be able to trust your dad. Rape is bad enough, your dad beating you is bad enough, but your dad raping you, and letting two other guys do it too, ugh. It's fucking disgusting. I wish I could've stopped it somehow…"

"Punk."

_and seen you do the same. _

I blink and look hard at him. He grips my wrist harder and fire blazes in his eyes. "Let it go."

"But—"

"No. Please just let it go. I hate him as much as you do, but there's no reason to let him do any more damage than he has already. I didn't tell you to make you mad. I told you so you could understand why I can empathize. I trusted my dad to leave me alone when he was sober and to take care of me. You trusted Paul as your friend and your confidant. I trusted my dad because he brought me into this world and it's his job to raise me and love me. You trusted Paul because you got your first real chance in WWE thanks to him and you thought he believed in you. He was almost like a surrogate father, he took you under his wing and helped you succeed. My dad betrayed my trust and left me shattered mentally, physically, and emotionally. Paul betrayed your trust and left you shattered mentally, physically, and emotionally. Am I wrong?"

"No."

"So let's analyze this for a second. **Paul** betrayed _your_ trust. **Paul** executed his sick, sadistic fantasies on _you_ while rendering you helpless to defend yourself. **Paul** took _your_ best friend captive and used you two against each other. **Paul** thought out every possible outcome to keep _you_ from escaping his basement with your sanity. **Paul** used his knowledge of your personality, your strengths and weaknesses, your fears, and tried to break _you_ by exploiting them. Where in that equation did you do something to catalyze, provoke, or deserve any of that?" I just sit there wide eyed, taken aback. He smirks slightly. "Crickets. Paul is famous for being a manipulative, conniving SOB who's only ever been in it for himself. And to bring the story full circle, my dad is known for being a worthless, violent drunk who doesn't care about his son. Please don't sweat it. It's all good now." I can see the wheels turning in his head. "You know, Raven is just like—"

"My lousy drunk father." I finish it, grinning.

_Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever, ever feel like you're less than fucking perfect. _

How, why, I don't know but it made me happy. He smiles wide, but it fades quickly.

"There's something important that we need to talk about, though. Hunter and Paul's trial is in a couple months, and you're gonna have to be a witness." I make a face.

"Really?"

"I've got pretty much all of it organized, it won't be all that much work. Sorry, I know telling your story to a room full of strangers isn't an appealing concept."

"Shit, I'm still sorry about your dad, though. That's fucked up."

"He can burn in hell. I'm successful in spite of him. It's fine. He doesn't deserve my time flipping out over him. I'm happy, he never will be." I smile grimly.

_Pretty, pretty please, _

"I see a lot of myself in you, Dean." I get now why he doesn't go by his birth name. Doesn't want to be associated with his dad, I guess. His eyes light up a little.

_if you ever, ever feel _

"Yeah. I gotta disagree with something you said before, though. I think you would've lasted through all that. It seems like child's play compared to the shit you did in the Indies."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

"It was controlled chaos. No one was in any real danger. When the final bell rang, we were all friends again."

"You wanna tell me you were friends with Martin Lambert?"

"You mean Brain Damage? Chainsaw Brain Damage?" He shudders a little. I still don't know how he made it through that match.

"That's the one."

"Maybe friends is the wrong word. I **was** sad when he committed suicide last year. I don't hate the guy. We've all done some pretty nasty stuff to each other. Point is, what we did wasn't malevolent, or sadistic, it was part of the show. Had it not been a show, we would not have been doing anything like that to each other, regardless if we all liked everyone else or not." I smile.

"You've got a way, man." It's a vague statement, sure, but I think he gets it.

_like you're nothing, _

"Yeah?"

"You guys are made for each other, you know that?"

"What?"

"Seth, stupid." He turns red.

"Uh… thanks."

"Don't be embarrassed. I've never been one to judge."

"I'm really lucky. He's the best thing that ever happened to me."

_you're fucking perfect to me._

A/N: Deb—I wish you could see the enormous smile on my face when I read your reviews. You hit the nail on the head every time, you think exactly how I want you to and that's so encouraging. Thank you.

Reviews?


	40. Chapter 40: Forgotten

Chapter 40: Forgotten

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier chapters)

SONG: FORGOTTEN BY LINKIN PARK

_There's a place so dark you can't see the end. _

They tell me Shawn Michaels wants to see me and I'm torn. On one hand, he's Shawn flipping Michaels. I idolized the guy as a kid, and I still kinda do. He's a **legend**. Arguably the best ever.

_Skies cock back and shock that which can't defend. _

On the other, he's Hunter's best friend. How bad could he possibly feel about what his buddy did to me? It's old me and current me struggling for dominance. Old me wants to say that I don't owe anything to him, that I don't idolize anyone, that Shawn's a washed up has been and he doesn't deserve my time.

_The rain then sends dripping acidic question, forcefully, the power of suggestion. _

But I realize, just writing that, and just thinking it, that I sound like an arrogant, elitist douchebag. So I tell them to let him in.

_Then with the eyes shut, looking thought the rust, and rot, and dust, a small spot of light floods the floor, and pours over the rusted world of pretend. _

I shift my freshly re-wrapped torso so I'm sitting up, and I wait for him to come. I can hear his boots down the hall and I crack my knuckles nervously. _What's he gonna say? Can I believe a damn word that comes out of his mouth?_

_The eyes ease open, and it's dark again. _

He comes in staring at the ground, his hands jammed in his jeans pockets. He lingers in the doorway.

_From the top to the bottom, bottom to top I stop._

"Well, come in." He looks up and shuffles a couple feet further in. "What's up? Why're you here?" He looks hesitant.

_At the core I've forgotten, in the middle of my thoughts. _

Whistling through his teeth, he leans against a wall, looking uncomfortable and out of place.

_Taken far from my safety, the picture's there. The memory won't escape me, but why should I care?_

"Holy crap, he really did do a number on you."

"Thanks. Always comforting to have someone come visit me in the hospital after the worst week of my life just to tell me I look like shit." It was a knee-jerk response, I didn't mean a word of it and I really am glad he came. "Sorry. I didn't mean that." Old me never would've apologized for that. But I'm so much more aware of myself now.

_In the memory you'll find me, eyes burning up. The darkness holding me tightly, until the sun rises up. _

"It's nothing. I uh, I don't blame you if you hold me responsible for what Hunter did, but I didn't know about it until Steph called me to say he was in jail."

_Moving all around, screaming of the ups and downs. _

"And I don't blame you if you don't believe a word I say, but I wanted to come see how you're holding up because frankly I'm disgusted with Hunter for doing this and I can't believe he would stoop to solving his problems this way."

_Pollution manifested in perpetual sound. _

"I know he doesn't like you, hell, everyone knows that. I know he _really_ doesn't like you."

_The wheels go round, and the sunset creeps behind street lamps. _

"I know he's got a quick temper, and I know he's been angry with you since you started working here. But I've never known him to take the coward's way out, and that's what he did."

_Chain-link and concrete, a little piece of paper with a picture drawn floats on down the street till the wind is gone. _

"Shawn—"

"Hold on, let me finish. I don't know what he did and I really don't want to, but I just wanted to come apologize for his actions. It was unprofessional, and beyond that it was cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment."

_And the memory now is like the picture was then, when the paper's crumpled up, it can't be perfect again. _

"There are a thousand ways to handle the situation he was faced with concerning you without even entertaining the thought of violence. I don't know why he'd even think of doing that. Other than that, we may never have seen eye to eye, but I've always respected you. I know it takes guts to carry yourself the way you do, even if I don't agree with everything you say."

_From the top to the bottom, bottom to top I stop. _

"So I just didn't want you thinking that I was in on it, or I agreed with it or approved of it, or that I was sitting at home laughing at your misfortune. Cause I'm not. It makes me physically sick to think that anyone would take things that far with you, let alone my best friend." He chews on his lower lip and looks at me uncertainty. I can tell he's not blowing smoke though, I can tell he means what he said and he's not trying to save his own skin. It doesn't exactly make me feel better, but it means something that he had the decency to come say this to me.

_At the core I've forgotten, in the middle of my thoughts. _

"Thanks man. Takes some balls to come here and say that."

"One more thing and then I'll leave you alone. Vince said he'd call you later today." He makes like he's gonna leave.

"Hey Shawn?" He pokes his head back in.

"Yeah?"

"I respect you too." He smiles.

"Thanks, Punk."

_Taken far from my safety, the picture's there. The memory won't escape me, but why should I care?_

When he leaves I lean over to grab my phone out of my bag and almost drop it when I see the notification on the front. My stomach turns to water. It's a text from Paul. Six simple words.

YOU GOT LUCKY. THIS ISN'T OVER. I read it over and over as my heartbeat gets quicker. I try to calm myself and lay back down, staring at the ceiling. Someone walks in and says I have another visitor. I hear my voice say to let them in as though I'm hearing myself say it through someone else's ears instead of saying it myself, and I see her leave through someone else's eyes.

_In the memory you'll find me, eyes burning up. The darkness holding me tightly, until the sun rises up. _

Reviews?


	41. Chapter 41: Given Up

Chapter 41: Given Up

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters), mentions of rape (earlier chapters).

SONG: GIVEN UP BY LINKIN PARK

_Awake in a sweat again, _

I see a familiar face out of the corner of my eye but I'm still staring at my phone screen. My mind is racing and when he talks it's underwater. "Hey man." He sets a can of Pepsi on the table next to me.

_another day's been laid to waste, _

Then a pause, I see him frown a little. "What's wrong?" I'm still unresponsive as he makes his way over to me.

_in my disgrace. _

He takes the phone out of my hand and looks at it intently. "Oh." He says it quietly. I'm frozen. He shakes my shoulder forcefully. "Punk. PUNK. Snap out of it. It's Scott. Cabana. PUNK. Get out of your head for a second."

_Stuck in my head again, feels like I'll never leave this place._

He snaps his fingers in my face. "He can't get you, man. You're in a hospital. It's Cabana." I shake my head quick and look to him for the first time since he walked in the room.

"Is this my fault?" I wonder aloud.

_There's no escape. _

"No, it isn't." He looks hard at me.

_I'm my own worst enemy…_

"Don't lie to me. There has to be something I could've done. There has to be a reason all these people hate me. There has to be a way I could've avoided all of this."

_I've given up, _

"Stop thinking like that. This isn't your fault."

"I'm so tired of feeling so much."

_I'm sick of feeling._

"For the first time in my life, I just want to be numb."

_Is there nothing you can say?_

"I don't want this anymore. I feel like I'm going to melt down, or burst into flames. I hate it."

_Take this all away, _

"They put these thoughts in your head."

_I'm suffocating. _

"You aren't thinking clearly. This isn't you talking."

_Tell me, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Scott, what if for the first time I actually _am_ thinking clearly?"

_I don't know what to take, _

"What if I've been seeing through rose colored glasses this whole time?"

_thought I was focused but I'm scared, _

"What about me makes people want to hurt me so badly?"

_I'm not prepared._

"Am I **that** vulnerable? Am I **that** stupid that I get my best friend wrapped up in a hell that I should've faced on my own?"

_I hyperventilate, _

"Was I really **so** selfish that I'd rather get him ripped to shreds than just take it like a fucking man by myself?"

_looking for help somehow, somewhere, _

"I just… I feel like I'm letting them win now, because I'm still hung up on it."

_and no one cares. _

"What did I fucking do that was so fucking reprehensible? I'm weak, I'm pathetic, just like they fucking said."

_I'm my own worst enemy…_

"They're right about me, aren't they, Cabana?"

_I've given up, _

"No, bud, they aren't."

"Then why can't I just get away from him?" I ask in a voice that sounds awfully pathetic to me.

_I'm sick of feeling. _

"I don't know how he sent that to you, but you gotta listen to me for a second. He cannot get to you here, and he never will again. I can personally assure you of that."

_Is there nothing you can say?_

I take a deep breath. "How're you hanging in there?"

_Take this all away, _

"It was awful man, I'm not gonna lie."

_I'm suffocating. _

"I kept thinking, like, this is the kind of shit that happens in movies or ISIS or some shit. It doesn't happen to normal guys, it doesn't happen to guys like me."

_Tell me, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

He nods solemnly.

"This is some serious shit man. I know you rub people the wrong way but what they did is just ridiculous." I talk to him for a while, telling my story over again.

_Gone! _

I grab the Pepsi and crack it open when I'm done.

"Thanks for the soda."

"Of course. Had a feeling you haven't had it in a while." He grins dryly.

_Put me out of my misery! _

For a guy I'm used to being extremely happy all the time, he's unnerving me with his seriousness. "They're lucky I wasn't there. I would've punched their fucking lights out."

_Put me out of my misery!_

"Ambrose wanted to kill them. I don't think that would've been a good idea, though, what with all the cops."

"I wish I could've helped. But you know how the indies are. Going all over God's green earth and if I don't wrestle, I don't eat."

"Yeah, man, I get it, it's fine, they had more than enough people. I'm glad you came, though."

"Of course I came. You're my brother, man." I smile. It's nice to feel wanted.

"You know, you're one of the reasons I made it out of there in one piece, regardless of if you were there or not."

_Put me out of my, put me out of my fucking misery!_

"How's that?"

"Well, around the time I got these," I point to my torso. It's covered in tape, but I explained to him earlier what was under it.

_I've given up, _

"I made a list with Jeff of the people we love, the people we were holding on for, so we could see them again."

_I'm sick of feeling. _

"You were on that list, and yours was a name I kept in my head to stop myself from giving up."

_Is there nothing you can say?_

He scratches his head thoughtfully.

"I don't know what to say, Punk."

"You don't have to. Can you do me a favor though, when you leave?"

_Take this all away,_

"Yeah, anything."

"Can you keep April company until I can get back home?"

"For sure. Just so you know, before I go, you're officially the bravest person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing." It makes me blush a little.

_I'm suffocating._

"Thanks, Cabana. That means a lot."

_Tell me, what the fuck is wrong with me?_

Reviews?


	42. Chapter 42: Keys to the Kingdom

Chapter 42: Keys to the Kingdom

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier chapters)

SONG: KEYS TO THE KINGDOM BY LINKIN PARK

_We start the final war, _

I'm woken up by rough hands pulling me out of bed. I blink the sleep out of my eyes and start to ask the question of what's going on, but it dies in my throat as I realize who I'm surrounded by. This cannot be happening. This is not happening. They smile at the look of astonishment on my face.

_tell me what's worth fighting for, _

"Surprise." Paul sings quietly. Hunter smirks and elbows Randal.

"I feel like maybe he wasn't expecting us." Randal laughs. I should be hitting them, I should be attacking, I should be fighting like hell to get out of here. But I'm rooted to the spot I stand in, too afraid to do anything else.

_when we know there's nothing more. _

"S'matter? Don't tell me the almighty CM Punk has nothing to say?" Brock gloats in his abnormally high voice. Kane taps me on the shoulder, and as I turn, they're suddenly all kicking me as hard as they can. Someone hoists me back up to my feet, and then something hits me, something other than feet, and I can already tell it broke something on contact. It seems to go on for ages until it all stops suddenly. My mind is racing, I want to cry. How can this be happening again? "Told you it wasn't over. You won't get so lucky this time."

_We take the hand or fist, _

"What do you want?" I gasp.

"You know what we want to hear."

_just to sell ourselves for this, _

"Fine!" I scream through tears. I can't take this anymore. They won a long time ago. But I'm faced with no choice other than to admit it now. This final blow to my psyche, this sudden reappearance, is enough to shove me over the edge.

_the path we least resist._

"Fine! You win!" I sob, looking up at their smug faces with blurred vision. "Please, please just stop." The person who held me up before releases me, but I'm defenseless, long past the point of fighting back. It's even worse because there's nothing inhibiting me from escaping, but yet I can't do it. Nothing but the five deadliest men I know.

_No control, no surprise, _

The blunt object hits my broken ribs again. I cry out and dig my nails into my palms, writhing in pain.

_toss the keys to the kingdom down that hole in my eye. _

"What more do you want from me?" I whisper brokenly. I hear a laugh, but I can't tell who it came from. "I don't know what it is I did to you that made you hate me this much, but whatever it is, I'm sorry. And I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you if you just let me go back to my friends."

_I'm my own casualty, _

Another blow. Another scream. Another laugh. "Please, Paul, Hunter, Randal, Brock, Kane, make it stop. I can't take it anymore. Please. I'm begging you, flat on my back, I'm submitting, okay? I'll do what you say. I'm on the edge of insanity. It hurts so bad, I can't do this any longer."

_I fuck up everything I see, _

That's it, they've broken me. No more. Let me go. Stop. But then the faces looking down on me move to the side. "What's that you said about going back to your friends?" Dean's voice rings out. Wait… Dean? What? I hear more footsteps and my original tormenters' faces are replaced by Dean's and Cabana's. Dean and Cabana. What the fuck?

_fighting in futility. _

I scream and fight harder to get up, get away, but it gets me nowhere. "What did you do to me?" I mumble. It only makes them laugh.

_I give you what you came for, _

"Scott, please help me, please get me out of here. We're friends, please, I need you to save me." Whatever it is, it comes down again and I cough up blood, gasping and wheezing as it starts to choke me.

_this is not the same though. _

Scott smiles. He elbows Dean playfully and jerks his thumb towards me.

"He honestly thinks we're here to help him." Dean laughs in that cocky way he saves for TV.

"He honestly thinks we meant it when we said it'd get easier when he finally breaks." Dean says.

_Got a different method but I still can bring the pain so…_

"Wha…" I start to say but my train of thought is derailed when it hits me again. It feels like a baseball bat covered in broken glass.

"Y'know what Paul said about you getting lucky and all?" Dean asks. "That won't be happening this time, because the people who saved your sorry ass were in on it all along." _Say what?_

_High as y'all can get, you're never really in my range though._

"Don't you get it?" Colt snaps condescendingly. "We aren't your friends. We never were your friends. We all planned this together. All you have is Jeff, and you'll lose him too, soon enough. If we would've known the filthy rat was all buddy buddy with you, we'd've taken him out of the equation a long time ago." With that, the door bursts open again, and Nic comes busting through, a look of determination on his face. It quickly turns into a sneer as he drags a half conscious and bleeding Jeff in with him. As soon as he lets go, Jeff drops to the floor with a groan, like a sack of bricks. I try to catch my breath as I near hysterics.

_All you fucking lames go aiming at my name, know, _

"Don't…touch…him… please…Dean…leave him…out of this…" I gasp, pleading desperately with my friends. They are my friends. I don't know what's going on, but they are my friends. Honestly, though, what the fuck else could go wrong? I scream, first in frustration but then in pain as they take that object to my ribs, **again**. Nic smirks next to my fallen comrade. Where do all these people keep coming from? He picks something up from the ground and I freeze. No. No, no, no. "Don't shoot him! Don't…don't do it… shoot me… please, just kill me. He's innocent."

_careful what you shoot, cause you might hit what you aim for._

His smirk widens as he cocks the gun and fires it, right at Jeff's head. As blood goes everywhere, he turns to me.

_No control, no surprise, toss the keys to the kingdom down that hole in my eye. _

My mouth is gaping wide open. That did not just happen. He's not dead, that didn't happen.

"I think we're done having fun with you two." He fires at me. I scream at him for betraying our friendship this way, and then black.

I sit up frantically screaming and gasping for breath. I look around in shock. _Alone. I'm alone_. But no matter what I tell myself, I don't feel safe here. I see Paul's text whenever I close my eyes. I can't sleep. Every shadow and stranger becomes a violent threat, ready to exact violent revenge on me for escaping its grasp. It's driving me insane. I can't get away from Paul. I can't. It's like I dragged myself out of the depths of hell, but it's a magnet, forcing me back down. The harder I fight the tighter it squeezes me. At least when I was there I had refuge from the evil when I slept. Now it's constantly there. When my phone rings and Vince's name pops up, I take a deep breath. _The son of a bitch is probably up in Greenwich laughing at me. _"Hello?"

"Phil! I trust you're well?"

"Yeah, jim freakin dandy." I say sarcastically.

"Yes, I've heard. Listen, I feel awful this happened to one of my employees, I'm sorry I couldn't have stopped it, and I'm sorry my son-in-law took his vendetta to such heights." _Liar. And a bad one at that. _I can hear it in his voice.

_I'm my own casualty, I fuck up everything I see, fighting in futility. _

"Vince that's all well and good, but what is it you want?"

"Well, I've conferred with the orthopedic surgeon for the hospital you're staying at and he gave me a run-down of what long-term injuries you sustained. I wanted to hear it from you first-hand, though. What's the earliest you could be back?" There it is. Give me two words of fake sympathy and then get on me about my return. _He's lying. He hates you. He's happy this happened. _I can't come anywhere near wrestling until I get these godforsaken dreams under control. I don't want to talk to Vince right now.

_No control, no surprise, toss the keys to the kingdom down that hole in my eye. _

"Vince, I just went through hell for a week courtesy of my own boss, the COO of _your _company. Can you get off my case for a couple months? You don't know what the fuck happened, I don't feel like telling you, and I'm not well mentally or physically. You don't know what he's put me through."

"But Phil—"

"You don't know what he's put me through."

"Phil—"

"Stop saying my name. You don't know what the fuck he put me through. I'm not coming close to a ring until I sort things out for myself." I don't wait for his response before hanging up angrily. My phone buzzes back to life as he tries to call me again. I ignore the vibrations and throw it back into my bag. I don't want to hear what he has to say. Sick son of a bitch.

_I'm my own casualty, I fuck up everything I see, fighting in futility. _

Reviews?


	43. Chapter 43: Bring Me To Life

Chapter 43: Bring Me To Life

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: BRING ME TO LIFE BY EVANESCENCE

_Wake me up!_

I make a face as I choke down the last of a 'chicken sandwich'. Fucking hospital food is disgusting. Same drill. The nurse comes to take my tray and tell me I've got another visitor. Been the same thing all week, after every meal. My family, Danielson, Ryder, Jericho, Copeland, Styles, Sandow, Anderson, even Calaway stopped by.

_Wake me up inside,_

It's the same basic situation every time. I explain what happened. They tell me they're sorry. They ask why Hunter and Paul would've done it. I tell them I don't know.

_I can't wake up._

But I look up just the same, expecting to see someone else ordinary. It's not, though. "Fuck, Nic, I missed you, man!"

_Wake me up inside_, s_ave me!_

His whole face lights up and damn, does it feel good to see him.

"You look a whole lot better."

_Call my name and save me from the dark!_

"Don't think it'd be possible for me to look worse than the last time you saw me." It was emasculating, him seeing me like that, but I'm so thankful that it happened that I really don't give a damn. He laughs.

_Wake me up. _

"Seems the sarcasm is still intact."

_Bid my blood to run_.

I feign a look of shock.

_I can't wake up._

"April said the same thing. I could never let anything happen to my sarcasm. Your lives would be unbearably boring without it." Smiling, he pushes my shoulder.

"In all seriousness, dude, have you gotten _any_ sleep?" I rub my face with the heel of my palm.

_Before I come undone__, s__ave me!_

"No. How could you tell?" He pulls out his phone and hands it to me, the front-facing camera on.

"You got thirty pound bags under your eyes, that's how." He's right.

_Save me from the nothing I've become!_

Dark purple circles rim my eyes, looking like someone punched me in the face, which many people did, or that I'm part raccoon. Maybe both. I touch them tentatively.

_Bring me to life!_

"Damn." He sits down and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. He looks at me, scrutiny marking up the lines at the edges of his eyes.

_I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside!_

"What's keeping you up?"

"Noth—"

"Don't you fucking lie to me, Punk. We've been over this." I sigh.

"Nightmares."

_Bring me to life_!

"The basement?"

"Yeah."

"We need to get you to a therapist when you're out of here."

"I don't need—"

"Yes, you do. You know as well as I do that rehabbing emotionally and mentally is going to be harder, and more important, than rehabbing physically. It's gonna be shitty, but not shittier than where you came from."

_Now that I know what I'm without, you can't just leave me. _

I start to protest again.

"Nic—"

"_Oh my God, for once in your life would you just listen to me?!_"

_Breathe into me and make me real. _

He screams it, then looks surprised at his own outburst. I wince and push myself away a little.

_Bring me to life._

He shakes his head, anger turning to guilt and remorse instantly. "Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you, man. I shouldn't get all worked up. I didn't mean to scare you. But you don't know what you're up against, as far as demons go. You ever been to a therapist?" I shake my head. "Okay, I get it. Therapy can have a kind of stigma attached to it. Here's something you don't know that might help." This weekend has been full of things I didn't know. "My best friend since Kindergarten committed suicide when we were sixteen."

_All this time, I can't believe I couldn't see, kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me. _

"Don't go feeling sorry for me, that's not why I'm telling you. I thought I could handle it myself, but I spent hours on end alone, in my room, in the dark crying over him. He was all I thought of. My grades started to slip, my girlfriend broke up with me, I got in a car accident, I was lost."

_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems, got to open my eyes to everything!_

"He was all I could think of. I saw him everywhere. What I _needed_ was someone to talk to, who could help me figure my life out. But I was stubborn, I convinced myself I had it under control. I didn't. Eventually my mom made me go to grief counseling. It turned my life around."

_Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul… don't let me die here!_

"I realized that he'd want me to move on. Point is, I waited way too long to get help. I don't want you to go through a whole different brand of hell than the one you came from. You need someone who can help you deal with it, professionally. I can only do so much."

"I'm sorry Nic."

"Don't worry about me. I still miss him, but he hated his life and I think he's in a better place now, a place he can be happy. I just wish I would've seen it coming. That he could be happy here with me. But I'm alright, really, I am."

_There must be something more!_

His words resonate with me. I can tell this is important to him, and if he's taking a big enough interest in my well-being to open up to me like this, I owe it to him to give it a shot.

"If you think it'll get me sleep, I guess I'll try it."

"Thank you."

_Bring me to life!_

A/N: Awh. Poor Nic. Just goes to show that everyone has demons, guys.

Reviews?


	44. Chapter 44: Hope For The Hopeless

Chapter 44: Hope For The Hopeless

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in later chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (this chapter and later chapters)

SONG: HOPE FOR THE HOPELESS BY PAPA ROACH

_I'm counting on my bruises,_

••••

I'm just gonna get right to it if that's okay with you.

_I'm not counting on myself._

I've never been close to the guy. I really don't care about him. But the rush from finally smashing my fist into Hunter's smug face, it was unbelievable. I kinda owe my revenge to Punk. As I stare at him, all laid up in that bed, sleeping, it's hard not to respect him. Punk is an ass, he knows it, we all do. But he's also one tough sunovabitch.

_I've been wreaking all this havoc, cause I thought it should feel old._

I guess I never realized _how_ tough. I mean, **God damn**. I don't know what happened, but I don't need to, it's obvious the fresh brand of hell they put him through just by what resulted.

_Never careful what I wished for,_

I heard him say something about a cattle prod? Jesus, I have a new found respect for him, that's for sure.

_never careful with what I say._

I cross my arms over my chest and shiver. The more I try not to think about Hunter, the more I do. I can still feel his bruising hands clutching my hips in a vise grip.

_Always begging for attention in my sick and twisted way._

I can still feel my self-respect disintegrate into self-sacrifice. I can still feel how disgusted I was with myself, how cheap I felt, how I still feel sometimes.

_If I could reach the stars…_

I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I hardly notice him wake up. That is, until he screams my name at me.

"JAY!"

_There's hope for the hopeless,_

I shake my head hard.

"Oh, um, yeah?"

_now that I know this,_

"Why are you watching me sleep and how long have you been doing it?"

"I honestly have no idea."

_You give me the strength to carry on._

"Well you're creeping me out." I was having a hard time remembering why I hate this guy. Now I remember. He's an ass. His voice runs through my head, _you spend all your time bitching, and moaning, and bitching, and bitching, and bitching, and bitching, _and how fucking pissed I was about it.

_The voice in the silence_

That goddamn thing is all over the Internet, I looked like an idiot. And that time he destroyed me, "sending a message to Jericho". He was mad that night, I don't even remember why. But he took it out on me, he was stiffer than he needed to be, and he hurt me.

_is crushing the violence._

I don't think I'd ever forgiven him for that. It all seems so petty now.

_It's giving me the chance to right these wrongs._

"Sorry." He shakes his gauze covered head.

"It's fine. I was being a dick. Thanks for coming."

_I will never quit, _

That's how he's changed.

_this is it, _

He seems so aware of himself and his effect on the people around him now.

_cause there's hope for the hopeless._

"Yeah, no problem. Why'd you ask me here?"

"I know it's not my business, but I really want to know why you hate Hunter so much." Dammit.

_I'm sitting in the shadows,_

It's a mental tug of war whether I should tell him or not.

_as the bodies hit the floor._

_You've never told anyone. __**But he took more shit from Hunter than even you did. **__He's not exactly your friend, you really want to share your biggest, most embarrassing secret with him? __**The guy probably deserves to know. **__You don't owe him anything. __You're__ the one who helped __him__. __**But he helped you too. Without him you'd've never gotten your revenge. You'd still be unable to look Hunter in the eye. **_

_And I don't need another reason why I can't take it anymore._

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." I don't exactly know what Hunter did, but it changed him. Old Punk would've pushed me until he got what he wanted.

_I'm so sick of these excuses,_

And I think it's the fact that he's not making me do it that makes me want to do it.

_tired of living in the dark._

"You're different now." I tell him bluntly.

"You would be too."

_and I won't be another victim_

"Hunter is the vilest piece of shit I've ever encountered."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

_starving from an empty heart._

"I've never told anyone about this. You cannot tell anyone. Ever."

_I'll rise to reach the stars…_

"You've never even told Adam?"

"ESPECIALLY NOT ADAM!" I say, louder than I meant to. He shrinks back into the bed at the noise. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

_There's hope for the hopeless, _

He seems almost fragile.

_now that I know this,_

So much has changed. That would've been the last word I'd've used to describe him.

_you give me the strength to carry on._

But that was then.

_The voice in the silence_

This is now.

_is crushing the violence,_

"It's fine. I don't know what my problem is."

"Dude, you should be so much more afraid than you are. Your problem is that your boss is a psychopath."

"I interrupted. You were gonna tell me your story. I'm sorry, please continue." A polite CM Punk? Is this an alternate universe?

_it's giving me a chance to right these wrongs._

"Okay. A while ago, back before you were even in WWE, I made a deal with the devil. I had to do it. Hunter was making sexual advances on Adam, and was threatening to bury him if he refused. Adam is my best friend, you know that. I'd do anything for him. Adam told me what Hunter was doing, and I told him I'd take care of it. And I did, but what Adam doesn't know, and will **never** know, is what I had to **do** to take care of it."

_I will never quit,_

I turn my gaze down. I can't look at him when I say it.

_this is it,_

I've never even said it out loud.

_cause there's hope for the hopeless._

"In order for me to keep Adam safe, I had to take his place. Both career wise and," I swallow hard, "sexually."

_I won't suffocate in vain,_

I take a breath and grit my teeth. "Hunter promised me he'd subtly bury me until someday, years from then, people would only say, 'damn, I thought that Christian guy was gonna be something. How'd he fuck that up?' And that's exactly how it ended up."

_I won't die in apathy._

"He made me say and do all kinds of degrading things, because he knew he could, he knew I didn't have a choice. I essentially became his bitch, I prostituted myself for Adam, and there was nothing I could do about it."

_I've stood out on the edge,_

"You have no idea how long I've been dying to do what I got to do in that basement."

_and faced eternity._

We're both quiet for a while. The air is heavy with the weight of my confession.

_Saw freedom in the fall, _

"I promise I'm a lot more interesting than that gorgeous generic linoleum you're staring at." He remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

_when I finally believed that I'd never be alone…_

I smile a little and force myself to look at him. "Thank you." He says, dead serious.

_There's hope for the hopeless,_

"For what?" I honestly don't know what I did.

"I know you got all those people together, or you at least helped, cause everyone down there was someone who got screwed over by Hunter."

_now that I know this,_

"You came, even though you don't like me, and you stayed and helped me, even though you're closer to Jeff. Then you come here and tell me that shit? Thank you, man. I never expected this from you."

_you give me the strength to carry on._

"I have nothing but respect for anyone with the courage to act different, the courage to stray from the norm, the courage to be proud of not fitting the mold. That takes balls."

_The voice in the silence_

"You're so different, Punk."

_is crushing the violence,_

"So I've been told."

_It's giving me the chance to right these wrongs. _

"It's unreal."

"Prison changes people." I laugh a little.

"It's a good change."

_I will never quit,_

"Life's too short to make other people miserable, Jay."

_This is it,_

"Amen to that."

_cause there's hope for the hopeless._

A/N: Deb— is this anything like what you had in mind? This is where my mind took it, I hope you enjoy. This is the last of the three parts of my story you inspired. Thank you!

Thank you to WraithRaider for following! Hope you're enjoying Panic.

Reviews?


	45. Chapter 45: Nobody's Listening

Chapter 45: Nobody's Listening

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: NOBODY'S LISTENING BY LINKIN PARK

_Try to give you warning, but everyone ignores me,_

•••

Is Jay done? Good. Where were we?

_told you everything loud and clear, but nobody's listening. _

A couple hours after they unwrap me to give my wounds some air, another person comes knocking at my door. When I hear the signal that someone's here, I get the burns under the blanket instinctively.

_Called to you so clearly, but you don't want to hear me. _

"Come on in." The guy behind the door scares the shit out of me for a couple seconds, and even as I try to correct my thinking I'm still uneasy.

_Told you everything loud and clear, but nobody's listening._

He rubs his hand over his head dejectedly.

"Don't be afraid of me." I swallow hard.

_The number one question is, how could you ignore it?_

"I'm not afraid of you, Glenn."

_We're just rolling with the rhythm, rise from the ashes of stylistic division._

"Don't lie, either."

"I…uh…"

"I did some bad stuff, didn't I? I don't remember a damn thing."

_With these non-stop lyrics of life living, not to be forgotten, but still unforgiven. _

I shift further under the blanket, twitching a little when I remember what happened to me at his hands. I remember thinking, right away, how soul crushing the guilt would be whenever he finally calmed down. That must suck. It isn't Glenn's fault this happened. He has a mental disorder, one that can't be eradicated. He was born that way, he can't control it. I feel for him.

_But in the meantime there are those who wanna talk this and that, so I suppose that it gets to a point feelings gotta get hurt, and get dirty with the people spreading the dirt. _

"You didn't know what you were doing."

_I got a heart full of pain, _

"But I did do it."

_head full of stress, _

"I don't know what, but you don't scare easy. "

_handful of anger held in my chest, _

"It must be pretty bad."

_and everything left's a waste of time, _

"It's no big—"

"No. What did I do? What did I do, **to you**?"

_I hate my rhymes, but hate everyone else's more._

I sigh and pull the blanket away against my better judgment. His eyes get wide and he backs away, sitting down in a chair and putting his head in his hands. He mumbles under his breath, "What have I done? The fuck is wrong with me?"

_I'm riding on the back of this pressure, guessing that it's better, I can't keep myself together. _

I run a hand through my hair. I can't stand anyone hating themselves this much.

_Because all of this stress_ _g__ave me something to write on, the pain gave me something I could set my sights on. _

"Come over here, Glenn." He looks up guiltily.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." I motion with my good arm.

"Come on." He gets up and walks towards me. I flinch a little and kick myself mentally. _You're making it worse. _I look in his eyes, where miserable remorse has taken blind fury's place. Emphasis on the 'blind'. "I don't blame you for any of this. To me, what happened was a result of another drone brought down by Hunter and Paul. I don't hold you responsible and you shouldn't either."

"But—"

"You're not any more to blame for this," I motion to the burns, "than you are for anything else that happened to me. Paul exploited you because he knew he could get you in a place where he could control you. That's what he does. He manipulates people. He manipulated me into thinking he was someone I could trust for**ten****years****. **What sets you apart from anyone else that was in that basement is that you didn't _want_ to do it. You weren't there mentally, regardless of if you were there physically or not. Kane did this stuff to me, not you, and we both know you can't control Kane. Everybody else enjoyed every last second, in full awareness of their actions. They did it because they liked it. You did it because you weren't given a choice. Please don't beat yourself up for it."

_You never forget the blood, sweat, and tears, the uphill struggle over the years, the fear and trash talking and the people it was to, and the people that started it, just like you. _

"Damn, why would anyone want to do this to you? Why would anyone want to do this to anybody? It doesn't matter if they hate you or not, it's just inhumane."

"The short answer is that he's crazy. The long answer is that he's not." Kane—excuse me, Glenn, flinches a little. "I didn't mean… not like you. I mean, not that you're crazy," I shake my head. "Just ignore me, I'm an idiot. I'm allowed to blame it on the concussion for now." He smiles bleakly.

_Try to give you warning, but everyone ignores me. _

"You're not an idiot. You're right, I am crazy. And you're also right, he isn't. At least, not like me. He doesn't get an excuse or a fancy name like I get."

_Told you everything loud and clear, but nobody's listening. _

"My point being the only thing wrong in his head is that he's the sick, cruel, scum of the earth. He knew what he was doing. You did not."

"You don't deserve to be treated like this."

"To be honest, they felt I did. And down there, their opinions were the only ones that mattered. Not mine. Not Jeff's. Not yours, not Ape's, not 'the powers that be', not anyone's. I'm just glad it's over."

_Called to you so clearly, but you don't want to hear me. _

"Hey, speak of the devil, do you know how Jeff is doing?"

"No… maybe when you're up and running you can ask him yourself."

_Told you everything loud and clear, but nobody's listening._

Reviews?


	46. Chapter 46: Madness

Chapter 46: Madness

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in later chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (this chapter and later chapters)

SONG: MADNESS BY SLEEPING WITH SIRENS

_All of my life I built this armor, _

After what seems like forever, I can finally get a shirt on without feeling like I'm on fire. My ribs are still killing me, but they've wrapped me up again and while it's hard to breathe, it doesn't hurt as much. I get off IV and although they say they want to keep me here for observation the rest of the week, I can finally do the thing I've been dying to do for the past week and a half. Go find the only person who can identify with me on every level regarding recent events. Jeff. Man, it feels like forever, considering we were each other's only lifeline for a whole week. I have to imagine they're keeping him longer than me, between his ribs and internal damage and whatever the hell happened to him as a result of that crab. They give me his room number and I make my way there clumsily. I haven't walked for a significant distance in weeks, and it's awkward getting back to it. I can hear a muffled "Mr. Hardy, you have a visitor" and a reply, then a doctor emerges and gives me the right away.

_and every disguise I ever wore. _

I walk into his room and find a very different Jeff than the one I remember. I don't get a chance to sort things out though, because his face clouds over with fury and he gets up off his bed before I realize what's going on, ripping tubes out of his arm as he goes. He jumps on me, raining his fists down on my face relentlessly. I'm too shocked to do anything, and when he grabs a crutch from the side of his bed and wraps it around my ribs, I scream like I'm back in the basement.

_Ashes and dust, I've made an island. _

Without warning, the image of my best friend over me gives way to my tormentors, like the opposite of my nightmares. All I know is someone's going to town on me with a blunt object, and I can't get away from it. A foot on my good wrist prohibits it.

_Facing the end_, _I said, "What for?"_

I can't stop the screams as the pain spreads across my body. Eventually I hear the noise of a door opening but my vision is blurry, someone restraining Jeff and a couple people kneeling by me.

_Sometimes it's a battle, _

I put a hand to my forehead and it comes away covered in blood.

_at times it's a war. _

_What the fuck is going on? _

_But you're never defenseless. _

A couple doctors put me on some cart with wheels, and take me back to my room.

_Sometimes we all lose strength, _

A couple stitches and a fresh wrap later, all I can think about is why in God's name Jeff would do this.

_please don't lose your faith._

I've been staring at the ceiling for an unhealthy amount of time.

_After our time has passed, _

But I don't know what else to do. My best friend hates my guts.

_we're like light through stained glass. _

_Why?_ I don't know. I won't get the answer from him.

_We go on and on and on, _

Then it hits me: _there's someone else who knows everything that happened. _I lean over and grab my phone from on top of my bag, and dial a familiar number.

"Dean, I need you to get here as soon as possible."

_in the end we're never gone._

_Out of the skies, I shaped this silence,_

He came as fast as he could, but I'm so on edge that the time until he got here crawled by painfully slow. I hear the normal formality and then they let him in. "**What **_**happened**_** to you**?"

"Jeff happened to me."

"Wha—" but then realization creeps into his expression. "Oh, no." He shakes his head, and says under his breath, "I didn't think that crazy bastard got through to him… I should've said something…"

_And from the earth, I carved these walls._

"Dean, I need you to explain this to me." He takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye for the first time since he came in the room.

"Well, you know I watched all those videos, right? So something happened after you passed out from the cattle prod." I flinch a little at the mention of it. He notices and winces. "…Sorry. Well basically Paul and Kane tortured and tortured Jeff on and on, relentlessly, until he said what Paul wanted him to."

_A piece of the world was only mine, _

"And what he wanted… he wouldn't give up… he got Jeff blaming you for everything that happened to him."

_and then I said I wanted more._

"To his credit he held out as long as he possibly could, but I think it all got to his head at some point. Jeff honestly thinks it's your fault now, that you're the enemy instead of Paul, Hunter and their crew. He was told to destroy you at the earliest opportunity. I didn't say anything because I didn't think it'd actually work. I'm sorry." My mouth has been hanging open for a while now. I'm still processing it. There's a lot of emotions bombarding me at the moment. Shock that they did it. Anger because they did it. Despair because I don't know how to fix it. Still pain from the attack. But more than anything, fear sticks in my throat, because it's certainly possible that Paul and Hunter have taken my best friend away from me. That they've now taken everything away from me.

"…What am I gonna do?"

"Maybe I can talk him down from the edge."

"All due respect, Dean, I don't know if he trusts you."

"Well who would he trust?"

"Off the top of my head? Matt. But Matt and I aren't really on the best terms."

"Why?"

_As I walk through the back towards the locker room, "This Fire Burns" dies out and I look for Jeff. I make my way towards the boiler room, where he sometimes hides out when he's upset. I turn a corner getting close to it and run right into a fist. It's got enough behind it to floor me, and its owner straddles me and holds my head up by my hair. _

_**At the edge of the blackness, **_

_After enough blows to make me dizzy, he gets up and nudges my hands out from my body. As he puts all his weight on my fingers, I groan through my teeth and blink hard to see who it is. I'm genuinely surprised when I see Matt Hardy glaring down at me. I'm confused. His brother is like a brother to me, I always thought we were cool. Guess not. _

_**when you're stretched to the core, **_

_"Matt," I say as calmly as possible, "get off of me." I make another attempt to get up, but he's pinioned my arms to the floor. He smiles darkly. There's something off about his expression. But it isn't until he speaks that I realize what it is. _

_"End of the line, bitch." His words are slurred. He's high. _

_**catch hold of the madness. **_

_I struggle against his shoes, but there's too much pressure on me. I'm stuck. _

_"Why…" my voice trails off as he starts yelling at me._

_"You're a shitty wrestler. You cut shitty promos. You say shitty things about my brother. __MY__BROTHER__! Do you have __**any**__ idea where you'd be without Jeff? You owe EVERYTHING to him! All you ever do is trash him! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You'd never make it __**anywhere**__ without Jeff to make your ass look good! You're a fucking insolent little leech." He continues to hurl hateful words down at me until finally I can't take it anymore. _

_"Jeff could wrestle circles around you in his sleep." I mumble under my breath. _

_**Sometimes we all lose strength, **_

_"What was that, bitch?" He hisses. _

_"I'll say it slowly this time, so your dumb ass can understand me. Jeff. Could. Wrestle. Circles. Around. You. In. His. Sleep. Didja hear me that time, you piece of shit?" It only makes him angrier. He twists his feet slowly on my hands and then stomps on them until I hear a couple small snaps and I fight back a scream. He starts yelling at me again and keeps on going until a flash of blond and purple hair pulls him off. Jeff's here. _

_**please don't lose your faith in me.**_

_"What the fuck are you doing, Matt?" He screams right up in Matt's face. "It's a goddamn wrestling angle! Remember wrestling? __It's not real!__ If you honestly care about me as much as you claim you do, stay the fuck away from my best friend!" He pushes him, hard and sends him a step backward. I shake out my hands. A couple of my fingers won't bend. Thanks, Matt. I wipe blood from my nose as Jeff's expression softens temporarily. He extends his hand to help me up, and I grab it. Taking a step behind him, I do my best to distance myself from his angry, angry brother. He holds an arm out in front of me protectively. Matt's eyes darken further. _

_**After our time has passed, **_

_"Fine, Jeff! Want to throw our brotherhood away for your straightedge boyfriend, see if I fucking care!" Jeff flips him off and turns on his heel, motioning for me to walk ahead of him. _

_**we're like light through stained glass.**_

_He walks me to the locker room and we sit down. _

_"Are you okay?" He asks me, with a guilty look on his face. I hold out my thumb. _

_"Pull on this for me." He complies until it pops and I scream through my teeth. _

_**We go on and on and on, **_

_I lean over to my bag to get some tape as he winces. _

_"I'm sorry." I start taping my broken fingers together and shake my head. _

_"Isn't your fault."_

_"He's been such a fucking asshole lately." _

_"I'm not going too far with what I'm saying, am I?"_

_"Of course not. I gave you open mic on me with the idea that you'd use it. Don't let him get up in your mind, he's out of his."_

_**in the end we're never gone. **_

Jeff and Matt have made nice since then, but it hasn't been as easy for him and I. Not that Matt puts any effort into fixing it, no hint of an apology, no nothing. I chew on my lip nervously. It isn't my fault. _Then why do I feel so guilty?_ "I uh… I might've had an argument (yeah, argument, okay) with him in which I may or may not have called him a piece of shit, and that Jeff was significantly more talented than him. There's also a possibility that I didn't say it that nicely."

_I will be yours to trust, _

"Why in God's name would you do that?"

_this is not the last of us. _

"Because he called me an insolent leech who'd never make it anywhere without Jeff to elevate me, what with my shitty wrestling and bland promos. And that was nice compared to some of the other stuff he said."

"Do I even want to how this started?"

"Uhm, long story short, he jumped me and screamed at me." I show him the crooked fingers on my hands. "He never apologized and I'm not going to. I wasn't in the wrong, Dean."

_We go on and on and on, _

"Well is there anyone else who could do it?"

"I don't think so. I'm sure Matt's in town to see Jeff, but the hard part is gonna be getting him to do _me_ a favor. I'm essentially going to have to beg."

_in the end we're never gone, or erased._

"This is the only way?"

"Uh huh."

"I can get him in here, but you'll have to do the rest." He moves to leave.

"Hey, Dean."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. And I mean for everything." He smiles shyly.

"No problem, man. Good luck."

"Luck is for losers." But I need it.

_Please don't lose your faith in me._

A/N: I'm flashback obsessed, I know, it's a clinical disease.

I kid, I kid. I just find them incredibly helpful in building a dynamic backstory.

Reviews?


	47. Chapter 47: New Divide

Chapter 47: New Divide

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: NEW DIVIDE BY LINKIN PARK

_I remembered black skies, the lightning all around me._

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Good to see you too, Matt." My voice drips with sarcasm. I kick myself mentally. I have to be nice, as much as it pains me. But as he glares at me, I see a smile cross his lips, a spiteful, sinister one. I know it gives him at least a little bit of pleasure to see me so messed up. It gets wider and morphs into a smirk.

"You look like hell."

"Thanks." I take a deep breath as he stares a hole through me. "I need your help."

_I remembered each flash as time began to blur. _

"Why the fuck should I do anything for you?"

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"Why should I?" _Because it's your fucking fault, that's why. _

"Look, I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? What I said about Jeff was kayfabe, and I shouldn't have said what I did to you." My fists clench involuntarily, I don't believe a damn word of it, but I need him to do this for me.

_Like a startling sign that fate had finally found me. _

"You're a fucking liar." I want nothing more than to make him eat my fist. This sucks.

"What do you want from me, Matt?"

"I want you to get the fuck out of my life, and Jeff's too."

"I might not have a choice if you don't help me. Humor me. At least listen to what I have to say." I can literally feel the hatred radiating from him.

"Fine."

"How much has Jeff told you about what happened to us?"

"Enough for me to know it's your fault." I sigh.

_And your voice was all I heard, that I get what I deserve. _

"Could you put our personal problems aside for two minutes, leave your ego at the door and try to be unbiased about this? It's kinda serious."

"Just talk."

_So give me reason, to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean. _

"I had passed out from pain at a point close to when we were rescued, maybe five or six hours prior. I didn't know, but while I was out they screwed with Jeff's head on a level I didn't know they were capable of sinking to."

_Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes._

"Apparently they tortured him until they got him blaming me for everything that had happened to him, instead of Paul and them. I wasn't aware until recently, because I went to visit him when I was healthy enough to. And when I did, he flipped shit and beat the hell out of me with a crutch." He smiles wickedly.

"Good for him."

_Give me reason to fill this hole, connect this space between. _

"Don't you get it, Matt? They brainwashed him!"

_Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies across this new divide. _

"What do you want me to do about it?" He snaps.

"I can't get anywhere near him without him going ape shit on me, and someone needs to try and get through to him about what really happened. Someone he trusts."

_There was nothing in sight but memories left abandoned. _

"So basically, you want me to clean up this huge fucking mess for you, being fully aware of how much I hate your damn guts?"

_There was nowhere to hide, the ashes fell like snow. _

"Yes. That's correct."

"You dirty little punk ass bitch. Everything that those bastards did to my baby brother **is** your fault! You got him down there. His body is fucked up because of you. His head is fucked up because of you. He's fucked up because of you, you piece of shit. I don't want to hear one more fucking word you have to say." He turns his back and walks towards the door.

_And the ground caved in between where we were standing. _

"Matt!" I say in the most pathetic voice I can. He turns around and glares at me.

"_What_." He asks, annoyed.

_And your voice was all I heard, that I get what I deserve. _

"You're the only one who can fix this, Matt. I need you to talk to him."

_So give me reason, to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean._

"Please talk to him. You don't understand what they did to us, Matt. They took everything away from me. Everything."

_Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes._

"The people here are telling me I have PTSD. I see them when I close my eyes. They hopped me up on painkillers, and I can't get off them yet, which goes against everything I believe."

_Give me reason to fill this hole, connect this space between. _

"Down there, they took my pride, my dignity, my hope, my sanity, my stability, my confidence, they tried to have one of my closest friends _sodomize_ me. They took everything that makes me who I am. Now they want to take my brother too."

_Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies across this new divide. _

"I need you to at least try to save my best friend, the one buried inside the Jeff that's in that hospital bed. Please, Matt, I'm begging you, I don't know why you hate me so much but I'm _sorry, _I'm sorry I made you angry, I'm sorry I made you want to say those things and break my fingers so if it's all my fault, I take full responsibility and I'm sorry."

_In every loss, in every lie, in every truth that you deny._

I run my fingers through my hair. "I'm fucking sorry for whatever it is I've done to you. But I love your brother like he's part of my own family, and if there's anything that I can do to save my relationship with him, I'm going to fight like hell to do it. I need you to help me, Matt. Please. Whatever it is you want me to do, I'll do it." As my voice begins to shake his expression begins to soften. I mean the things I'm saying now.

_And each regret, and each goodbye, was a mistake too great to hide_

"I…um…" I talk gently as I fear I'm going to break down soon.

"What _did_ I do that made you so angry with me?" He pulls at his shirt collar absently.

_And your voice was all I heard, that I get what I deserve. _

"It's uh… it's not all your fault. It's actually not your fault at all. I've been a dick to you for a long time when you never really did anything to me. When you and Jeff started workin' together and you got real close real quick I got…"

_So give me reason, to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean_

"Matt, you don't have to—"

"Yeah, I do. This has gone on long enough between me and you."

_Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes. _

"I got jealous of your relationship with him. Cause we grew apart when he took off in singles after he came back, and I missed the way things used to be with him. So I just got so **angry** with you, not because you did anything wrong, because I couldn't handle my own problems like an adult. That's on me. I wasn't in my right mind that night and I lost it, and I shouldn't have. You had every right to say shit back to me, you had the right to say a lot more than you did. It took me a long time to realize I only have myself to blame for it. By then I was too pig-headed to admit I was the one in the wrong to you. I just got angrier and angrier and unfortunately you were my scapegoat. So you aren't the one who needs to apologize, I am."

_Give me reason to fill this hole, connect this space between. _

"I'll talk to Jeff. I know how much he means to you. And deep down, I know how much you mean to him. He's gonna need your help recovering from this shit, he won't be able to do it without you. God knows I'll be useless when it comes to that."

_Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies _

"I know how much it must hurt to see him hate you. I get it. I'll do whatever I can." I breathe a sigh of relief. I never expected that from him. Never. But if anyone can convince Jeff, it's Matt.

_across this new divide. _

A/N: Help is on the way, Jeff!

Reviews?


	48. Chapter 48: Freakshow

"Well, come in." I make my way through the doorway slowly and as soon as I'm through Jeff sits bolt upright in his bed. Matt puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back down gently. Never thought I'd be in this situation. Matt likes me and Jeff hates me. My, my, how things have changed. Awesome. I can't help but feel ridiculously guilty even though I've done nothing wrong. I take a seat a safe distance away from him. I don't know about this. "Jeff, how many times do I have to say it?" Jeff talks through his teeth, still fighting against the increasing pressure of Matt's hand.

"You're lying. He put you up to it. Stop lying to me, Matt."

"I'm not lying, Jeffro."

"He put me in that basement on purpose. He liked it." Each word digs a little deeper into me. _What've they done to him? _

"Jeff, Paul is the one who put those thoughts in your head. Paul is the one who did shit to you on purpose. Paul and Hunter and Randy."

"He put them up to it. Ask him yourself. He was constantly egging them on, when he knew what they would do to me." I look at him incredulously.

"Jeff that was something we agreed to do together. You did the same thing. I never would've done something like that without your express permission. Even then, I didn't want to do it. But we didn't have another option."

"We? If **you** would've just swallowed your ridiculous pride, things wouldn't have gotten half as bad as they did." I remember my nightmares, and what 'Dean' said in the one.

"You have to realize that they weren't going to let up, regardless of what we did."

"I don't **have** to do jack shit." I want to yell at him. I want to take him by the shoulders and shake some friggin sense into him. But I know that won't solve anything. I have to be patient.

"We agreed to do this together, Jeff. We agreed that we'd get through it together. We were on the exact same page up until I passed out, when Kane was there, remember? You tried to do a promo, but I couldn't respond… Ah, it doesn't matter. Point is, it was like someone flipped a switch by the time I woke up, and you were a different person."

"So that's what you think, is it? That I'm weak minded enough that someone can just shove their hand up my ass and make me do whatever they want?"

"That isn't what I said. I just want to know what happened during that time, because whatever it was, it changed you, man." He looks at me blankly, and it's so obvious that he doesn't remember.

"You did it on purpose." He reverts back to his old response, which had nothing to do with my question. Worry is starting to creep into my mind, that he might actually be too far gone, beyond my help. I think Matt can tell that I'm losing it, because he inserts himself back into the conversation.

"Look at him for a second, Jeff." He complies, but I can feel the hatred as I look away. I can't stand him looking at me that way. It'd be bad enough if he just hated me, but there's something else. Hurt. Like he's a kicked puppy, and I'm the one who kicked him. Like I betrayed his trust, and part of him is angry, but the other part is just sad. The sad part is what really kills me. "He looks pretty awful, doesn't he?"

"Thanks, Matt." I mutter.

"Do you want my help or not, Punky?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Now if you'd shut up for ten seconds, I'm making a point. Jeff, he looks like shit, does he not?"

"Yeah, he does."

"Worse than you, ya think? You know what he went through."

"Probably."

"Why would he willingly go through that?"

"I don't know Matty. I just know he did it."

"How do you know that, bro?"

"Isn't it obvious? If he hadn't opened his big ass mouth, I'd never have gotten wrapped up in this in the first place." _Ouch._

"He's your best friend."

"Best friends don't bring each other down into basements so they can be traumatized." _Fuck that one hurt. _

"Jeff, he didn't do that on purpose."

"Why're you defending him? You hate him! You broke his fingers and called him all those awful names, don'tcha remember? You seemed happy that he's all fucked up, at least you did earlier." Matt looks to me exasperatedly.

"Jeff," I start.

"SHUT UP! GET AWAY FROM ME! I'M DONE HURTING FOR YOU!" I can see it from the pity on Matt's face that my expression shows how much Jeff's words crush me.

"Keep going," Matt mouths to me.

"I'm sorry all of this happened to you. I'm sorry you got dragged into it and caught in the crosshairs. I didn't know, Jeff." I plead. "I didn't know, man. I didn't see an end to what was happening to me, I heard you come, and all I thought was that was my way out. I just needed to get out. It was the wrong thing to do, but saying nothing would've been the wrong thing to do too. I was backed into a corner, you know that. I'm so, so sorry this happened, but there wasn't anything else I could do. I'm so sorry. The last thing I wanted was for them to go after you. If you remember, I must've pleaded with them fifty times to leave you alone and hurt me instead." He's smoldering in the bed as I try to reason with him, my words not having the desired effect on him the way they did with his brother.

"Didn't really work, now, did it? You keep trying to pass off blame on Paul. Paul put the _truth_ in my head. He did those things to me because you made him. They did what they had to do. It's not their fault you're a vindictive asshole." I look at Matt, feeling defeated.

"There's only one thing left to try."

"What's that?"

"They recorded all of it. We're gonna have to show him what happened." He makes a face.

"I don't know if that's a good idea. His head's real messed up already."

"We don't really have another option."

"Can you get it here soon?"

"Dean burned 'em all on DVD's and he's in town. Give me a half hour."

"And if this doesn't work?"

"We're fucked."


	49. Chapter 49: My Demons

Chapter 49: My Demons

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: MY DEMONS BY STARSET

_Mayday! Mayday! The ship is slowly sinking. _

Dean warned me that what I'd see would freak me out, but I need to watch it. It's the only way to save Jeff. The Jeff inside that cold monster in the hospital bed. I meet Matt outside his room. "Are you sure about this?"

"Not really, but I don't have any other option. You think you can get him to sit for the whole thing?"

"I'll do what I can."

"Thank you."

_They think I'm crazy, but they don't know the feeling. _

I can see conflict in his eyes. "Matt, it's okay if you still hate me."

"I don't. I'm just worried about him. He's my baby brother, and I couldn't protect him. That's all."

"Yeah, I get it."

"Wait for my signal." He walks in the room and leaves the door open, and I stay in the hallway within his line of vision. "Hey, Jeffro."

"Hey, Matty."

"I know you're still mad at me, but I need you to keep an open mind for like ten minutes. If you still don't believe me, I won't mention it ever again."

_They're all around me,_ _circling like vultures. _

Jeff sighs heavily.

"Fine." Matt motions with his hand for me to come in. Jeff lunges out of his bed again and tries to get up but, less gently than last time, Matt puts a hand on each of his shoulders and holds him down, giving him a warning look while he does so.

"'Member when I told you Paul put those thoughts in your head? And you didn't believe me? I think we're gonna change your mind. The truth hurts, Jeffro. I'm sorry it's gotta be this way."

_They wanna break me and wash away my colors._

I hesitate slightly.

"I know you're angry—" I begin.

"You don't know a goddamn thing about me." Something inside me kind of snaps when he says that.

"I don't know anything about you? I don't know a thing about you, is that what you think? I know you rub the joint of your right thumb when you're nervous. I know you hate it when people say that you can't do something. I know you're not afraid of dying, but you're afraid of leading an unremarkable life before you do. I know you take cold showers because if you take a warm one you never want to get out. I know you don't want Ruby to watch you wrestle, because it scares her to see you get hurt. I know you have a weakness for white chocolate and you love the snow because there wasn't any in Cameron when you were growing up. I know it upsets you that Matt and I hate each other so much. I know that you see wrestling as an art and a creative outlet. I know you made aluminummies when you were younger. I know that you would have forgone all of your fame for Shane and Shannon to have more than they did. I know you used to have a Cleansing with your friends at the end of the year, where you sat around the campfire and vented about life to have a clean slate for the New Year. I know you love traveling the world but you miss Beth and Matt and Ruby a lot. I know people thought you were on drugs way before you actually were, and it pissed you off. I know people used to ask you to name their moves for them. I know you were always closer to Adam than Jay. I know you love Cameron, and I know we always fight over who's more of a hometown boy. We literally _just_ talked about that while we were in the basement, to get our minds off of everything else, because we're good at that, because we can make light of anything. And I know all of that, and a lot more, because you're my best friend and I love you. But you don't get it, and unfortunately this is the only way to change your mind." I push the DVD in my hand into the DVD player that hangs underneath the hospital TV.

_Take me high and I'll sing,_

The image of the basement from hell shot from a far corner of the ceiling flickers up on the screen. I back up a couple steps so I can see it. Problem is, it picks up right in the middle of the part where I was on the table. Dean warned me. Maybe I should've listened. I take my eyes off of it and look to the Hardys' expressions, not because I want to see them but because there's nowhere else to look and I don't want to relive this.

_oh you make everything okay, okay, okay._

Matt's eyes meet mine as "Fuck that. He ain't calling you Master. You don't own him." comes from the speakers. Jeff's voice. The owner of that voice stares at the TV with a hardened expression that bordered on satisfaction. That's followed by Kane bending my arm over the table.

_We are one in the same,_

"You don't have to stay," Matt tells me quietly as my screams echo throughout the room. I rub my hand over my face.

_oh you take all of the pain away, away_, _away._

"I do," I mouth back to him. Matt looks increasingly uncomfortable as I hear "because I'm not a coward" and Paul's explanation starts. I hear bits and pieces of it through the fear pulsing in my ears. "My _best_ friend… ten years… weak…hero," and my reply,

"Yeah, I guess."

"Theory…"

"S-s-show me a hero a-and I'll show you a coward who r-r-r-ran out of options or a f-fool who is too s-s-stupid to s-stay down."

"Right…third… courage… logic… people don't really like me… attracted to the kind of hero you are…fighting spirit," the whole thing brings me back and I feel just as helpless, just as afraid as when it actually happened. It goes on and on until I hear "expected you to last longer," which signals that it's almost over. His words cut just as deep, hurt me just as much. "Turn him over." Matt's hands go to his mouth as the first buzz of the taser arises. If Matt fucking Hardy is broken up about watching this… fuck. Matt Hardy, who hates me, with a burning fucking passion, is having a hell of a time watching this happen to me. Either he really doesn't hate me, or it looks as bad as it actually was. Maybe both. Then it's all screams and sobs, "it hurts" and "some hero you are" until the last dull smack of my forehead against the table. I don't know what happened after this point. I look up and try to stop myself from trembling. Paul and Kane walked back towards Jeff, who had curled himself up into a ball. I steal a quick glance at Matt, and I can see both anger and horror in his expression.

_Save me if I become_ _m__y demons._

I turn my head back to the television in time to hear Jeff's muffled voice say,

"That was fucking sick. You're a sick fucking bastard. That was a new low. Even for you." Jeff says it with his head buried in his lap, behind his knees, pulled up to his chest. Paul laughs.

"Really? I think that was a new high for me."

"Sure."

"Look at me, now." Jeff's gaze traveled up slowly. Paul smirked. "Don't you get to thinking we're done with you? Not even close. Now, you decide how long this has to last, whether you realize it or not. You're awfully stubborn, so I'm thinking you've got a long night ahead of you." At the word 'stubborn' I can already tell what's going to happen. TV Jeff blinks confusedly in stereo with hospital Jeff. I can tell he doesn't remember this.

"What d'you mean?"

"Tell me Jeff, who is to blame for your current situation?"

"You are."

"That's what I thought."

_I cannot stop this sickness taking over, it takes control and drags me into nowhere._

Paul turned his back as Kane stomped on Jeff, drawing a gasp from him. "Jeff, did it ever occur to you that everything that's happened to you is CM Punk's fault?"

"That's a lie." I look to hospital Jeff and see a spark of recognition that hadn't been there earlier. Another kick from Kane brought about a scream from TV Jeff, and Matt winces.

"He egged Randy on and made him stick 60 extra thumbtacks in you." Matt runs a hand through his jet black hair and mouths the word "thumbtacks" silently with furrowed eyebrows. Paul turned back around. "And as if that wasn't enough, don't you remember how much pain he put you through trying to undo the damage **he caused **in the first place?" TV Jeff and hospital Jeff's eyes widen in shock. "Yes, I know about that. You don't strike me as a fool, Jeff. Why can't you see it? He didn't do that to help you, he did that to clear his own conscience! He can't even be bothered to be awake now to help you."

"That's because you and the big red retard fucked him up." I see that this resonates with hospital Jeff. I can see the truth slowly set in with him. I'm guessing Jeff's words are about to get him in trouble. Paul smiled wickedly as his 'master plan' began to unfold. Kane beat a defenseless Jeff until blood poured freely from his mouth, his eyes glazing over. Kane unlocked him and carried him over to that same tub of freezing water. The one they tried to drown me in. He dropped Jeff unceremoniously into the ice bath. It immediately woke him up as he gasped to reach the surface. Kane held Jeff's head above the water by his hair. Paul stood directly behind Kane. "You're not fucking going away on me. You're going to feel all of it until you realize that CM Punk is your enemy, not us. You're being beaten, drowned because of him. You're here because of him. Did it ever occur to you that maybe he secretly enjoys seeing you in pain? To get revenge after you took that drugged up shot at him?" That's the final puzzle piece for Jeff. Realization becomes visible on his face. "Now I'll ask you again. Make this easy on yourself. Who is to blame for your current situation?" Jeff coughed hard and groaned through his teeth.

"You. Are."

_I need your help, I can't fight this forever. I know you're watching, I can feel you out there. _

"Wrong answer, Jeff." Kane pushed Jeff's head back under the water. He thrashed violently in an effort to reach the surface, but Kane was just too strong. When he was allowed back up, terror was plain in his eyes. I've been there. It's scary as fuck. "Who is to blame for your current situation?" The conflict Jeff felt was apparent on his face. Paul picked up on it right away. "That's it Jeff. Just think for a minute. Are we really the bad guys here? Or is it that guy on the table? The guy who convinced you he was your friend? He's trying to bring you down with him, when you never did anything wrong. That's not fair to you Jeff. You may think we're the cruel, unfair ones around here, but we're just righting wrongs that came about because of him. He's the malevolent one. He's the sadistic one." Jeff shook his head.

"No. You're wrong." It went on and on mercilessly until finally Jeff caved.

"Who is to blame for your current situation?"

"CM Punk." Paul grinned smugly.

"I'm glad you see it my way. One more thing before we leave. The next time you are given an opportunity, I want you to unleash all of that anger you have at him for doing all of this to you. I want you to kill him. Slowly, intimately, in every way you know he fears. Got it?" There was a spark of blind fury that hadn't been there before.

"Yes." There was a little left on the DVD but I stand and turn it off. That's enough. More than enough. Jeff blinks again like he can't quite believe his eyes. "I…I…oh my God. Oh my God. My best friend. I tried to kill my best friend." I feel bad for him. It's not his fault they brainwashed him.

_Take me high and I'll sing__, _

"You understand now?"

"Yeah…"

"That's all there is to it then. Thanks for your help, Matt. Thanks for listening to reason, Jeff." Matt gets up to leave, but stops in front of me. He can't even bring himself to look me in the eye.

_o__h you make everything okay, okay, okay._

"I… I'm… that… fuckin…"

"Matt, you can look at me." His gaze travels up slowly. I'm shocked to see tears threatening to spill over. I'm even more shocked when he pulls me into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry for everything, man. Thank you… thank you for being a better brother than I was. There's a lot of altruism in this room." _Damn_. I can't even imagine how hard that was for him to say. I wrap my arms around him quickly, before pushing back so I could look him in the eye.

"You showed me a Matt Hardy today that I would've bet a million dollars didn't exist. Takes a big man to admit he was wrong. Takes an even bigger man to forgive. I lost a lot this past week, and at a high price, but what I gained today is priceless. I got my brother back and I owe it to a new one. As far as I'm concerned, it took more balls to do what you did than to do what I did on that video. And as far as your altruism comment, you're just as much to blame for that as we are. Thank you." He drags the heel of his palm across his eyes.

"I gotta get outta here before you make me cry like a baby. Thank you. I consider you my brother, because you saved mine." He turns to go. **Wow**.

_We are one in the same_,

I head to follow him, but Jeff's soft voice stops me.

"That's not all there is to it, and you know it." I don't need an apology from him. I never held him responsible in the first place.

"I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're thinking."

_oh you take all of the pain away, away, away_.

He eyes the messed up crutch by the side of his bed, bent in a "C" shape from hitting my body too many times. He feels guilty, but he shouldn't. I don't blame him any more than I blame Glenn. Paul and Hunter used him as a pawn in their game. He couldn't control that. "I was never mad at you. I was mad at them for fucking you up so bad. They hijacked your brain. That is not your fault. I knew they did something to you, I knew you weren't in your right mind. I'm just sorry you had to live all of that over again."

_Save me if I become__ m__y demons._

"Isn't nearly as bad as what they did to you. What _Paul_ did to you. That is so far past messed up. There are no words to describe how wrong that was. I'm sorry he said all those things." I owe it to him to be honest.

"Yeah I can try to act tough like that didn't matter, but you can tell by the video. I was scared out of my goddamn mind, and hurt. Like heartbroken, cut deep, fucked me up hurt. It still hurts. Paul was one of my closest friends, and it was all fake. I never saw it coming. He blindsided me. Paul Heyman out there planning to destroy me. Paul Heyman, wanting to hurt me. On purpose. It's just so wrong. I would've trusted that guy with my life. And he orchestrated the whole goddamn thing! He's the reason my arm is broken in two places. He's the reason my skin was torn off my back in giant strips. He's the reason I was almost drowned. He's the reason I have holes burned in my arms. He's the reason my straightedge tattoo is melted right off my fucking body."

"It's melted off?"

"Uh huh."

"I can talk to Shannon about it."

"Aww, Dynamo! I love that little poser!" _Stop wearing the mask and say what you're thinking. _I sigh_. _"And he's the reason my best friend, my completely innocent best friend, was traumatized. He's the reason for these godforsaken nightmares. Ugh. Makes me absolutely sick."

_Take me over the walls below, _

"I can't believe I blamed you for that…" he says it almost more to himself.

"Jeff, they weren't going to stop until you did. Just like what they always did, they were trying to get to me through you."

_fly forever, don't let me go_,

"Jeffrey Nero Hardy, get over yourself." I say it jokingly, and get the first smile I've seen from him in a long time.

"If you insist. Hey Punk, do you remember that match I had, a while ago? I think it was kinda famous, and there was something I said, but it's slipped my mind exactly what it was. Can you help me out?"

"I'm still standing?"

"Ahh yes. And I am indeed, still standing."

_I need a savior to heal my pain, when I become my worst enemy, the enemy._

"That's my boy. You're okay?"

"As okay as I'm gonna be."

_Take me high and I'll sing__, o__h you make everything okay, okay, okay._

"Good. Cause I don't know what I'd do without you, brother."

"I don't know what I'd do without you either, you sarcastic asshole." He smiles as he takes the rubber band out of his hair, bunches it up together and puts it back.

_We are one in the same__, o__h you take all of the pain away, away, away._

Same old Jeff. It's a little thing, but it's comforting that something in my life is remaining constant. I don't know how Jeff's put up with having long hair his whole life, I had it too until I discovered the sweet bliss of short hair. I can't imagine him without it though. Old habits die hard.

_Save me if I become_ _m__y demons._

A/N: I made up some of those Jeff "facts," but the others came from the autobiography he co-wrote with Matt.

Reviews?


	50. Chapter 50: Happiness

Chapter 50: Happiness

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: HAPPINESS BY THREE DAYS GRACE

_I reach out when I have a confession, _

I get out of my car and stretch my legs for the first time in 22 hours. I didn't want to stop. I didn't want to fly. I wanted time alone to think. About a lot of things. Jeff, his family, his recovery, the upcoming trial and more than anything, my pending return to WWE in a month and a half. I have so many questions, and I'm the only one who can answer them. I need time to sort myself out. But Jeff needs sorting out too, and from what I've heard, he hasn't been doing so well. Why? Why is it never over for him? Why does the nightmare still live on? Why do such bad things happen in such a good man's life? Jeff's made a lot of mistakes, sure, but he's worked his ass off to clean it up. This isn't fair. This is so far past unfair. Why do the drugs almost take my best friend from me time and again? Why did I let them hop him up on all that damn OxyContin? Is this all my fault?

_I reach out in desperation, _

I keep my eyes trained on the ground as I make my way up the walk to the door. It's real warm for early November. Then again, I am in North Carolina. I look up as I ring the bell, and it isn't long before Beth opens it, Ruby on her heels.

"Hey Phil," she says quietly.

"Hey Beth. How're you taking all of this?" It's visible that, although it's been three months, she's still shaken up about it.

"I've been better." I pull her into a gentle embrace before stepping back as she moves to let me in.

"I know how hard it is. I'm so sorry."

_I reach out but no one is listening, so I go looking for the next best thing. _

I stoop down to give Ruby a hug.

"And how are you, little lady?" Her face is tear streaked, her eyes red. My heart aches for her.

"Daddy's hurt, Uncle Phil."

"I know, honey. I'm gonna try to fix it." She smiles sadly.

"Thank you."

"Can you tell me where your daddy is, sweetheart?" She points downward. "The basement?" She nods. "Thanks for your help, Ruby. I promise Dad will be back to himself soon." I pass her and turn the corner, descending the stairs. Jeff turns his blue and brown head at the noise. I sigh. As much as I love him, I hate doing this. I hate that he ever got into drugs, I hate that he's doing them again, I hate that he can't find another way to cope.

_Happiness, straight from the bottle, when real life's too hard to swallow._

Sure, I don't know what it's like to struggle with addiction, being straightedge and all. But I've been around it my whole life. My dad was an alcoholic. My older brother had a gambling problem. My first girlfriend was a self-harmer. My best friend was, and I guess he still is, a drug addict. I know everything about it, how it eats at your sanity, how it consumes your thoughts, how it becomes the one and only solution to your problems, how it hurts the people around you. I haven't experienced it? Outside looking in, less than zero control over your loved ones, it's almost worse than going through it myself.

_Happiness, straight from the bottle, when real life's too hard to swallow._

Part of me is mad at him for throwing his life, his wife, his daughter, his fans, all in the trash just to get high. Part of me just feels sorry for him. I want to think that this will be the last time, but I know it won't be. I hardly know what to do anymore. He doesn't say anything. I sit down on the couch with him, on the edge of it. I turn to him. He looks far off. I shake him gently. When he doesn't respond I shake him harder. "JEFF!" He turns to me. Finally.

"What?"

"You've gone back to drugs, haven't you?"

_I feel them judging on me for their own pleasure. _

He shrugs and looks at me vacantly. "Those things are going to kill you, Jeff."

"You'd have a hell of a time killing someone who's already dead."

"Huh?"

"I feel dead, Phil. I don't want to do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"Live. I'm nothin' anymore, brother. I ain't worth your time."

_If they really knew they'd know better. _

"You're still a man."

"Am I? I feel like a shell." I blink for a second, confused. He looks at his lap and my eyes go to it too. There's still a mark from the cigarette. I try to shake shock off and focus on the fact that my best friend is suicidal.

_That I'm the one who caves under pressure, _

"Are you hurting yourself?" He won't look me in the eye. He'd been rolling in the deep when he left WWE, but he's never wanted to end his life. I try to remember back when James Gibson talked to me about his older brother's struggle with depression. _What do I do? _"You gotta go see someone, man. Pills aren't going to fix this. Drinking isn't going to fix this. You have a family, a daughter, you have a wife and a brother and people all over who love you. This isn't the answer. You need to get help. I love you, man. I won't sit idly by while you destroy yourself from the inside out. I'm the only one who knows the way you're feeling. I was there too, Jeff. I know it was scary as fuck. I know how much it hurt. But if you don't bounce back, you're just giving them exactly what they wanted. To break you, screw you up beyond repair."

"Maybe it's not worth it, Phil. All of this? Just to prove those assholes wrong? Why does it even matter whether they're right or not?"

"Do you even hear yourself? You're not thinking clearly. This is not Jeff Hardy, what you're doing here." I'm about to be harsh, really harsh, but I know this is the only way to get his attention so he can realize how serious this is.

_when desperate times call for desperate measures._

"The Jeff Hardy I know, my best friend, doesn't let his family down. Doesn't make his daughter cry. Doesn't wallow in self-pity. Gets back up every time he's knocked down, and then flips the people off who knocked him down. Doesn't give up when things get rough. Doesn't let anyone one up him. Doesn't give up. I recall that Jeff Hardy saying 'my life, my rules' all the fucking time. And the Jeff Hardy I know conquered his demons' ass and sent them back to hell a long time ago. I'm having a hard time believing that is the same guy I'm sitting with right now." He stares at me in muted bewilderment. "I know what you're going through is difficult. But you don't realize everything you have to lose. You don't remember what it's like being happy, but I guarantee there is something more to your life than ending it this way." He looks to his lap again and I hook my finger under his chin gently to direct his gaze back to me. For the first time I notice dark purple rings around his eyes.

_Happiness, straight from the bottle, when real life's too hard to swallow._

"I get them too, you know."

"Huh?"

"The nightmares."

"I…um…"

"I used to every night. Sometimes even when I was awake. But Nic Nemeth made me go see a shrink, and things got better afterwards. I think I'm gonna have them for the rest of my life, but not nearly as often or as bad."

_Happiness, straight from the bottle, when real life's too hard to swallow._

"They—the doctors, the therapists, the psychiatrists—they tell me I have PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You've gotta have it too, with the nightmares, and the anxiety, and the depression, and that. It doesn't go away on its own. You need help." He looks afraid. More afraid than when we were in that basement. I didn't know that was even possible.

"But sometimes it isn't me. Or you." I frown. My mouth starts to ask the question, but I realize what he means as he starts explaining. "Like sometimes it'll be Matt in your place. Same helplessness. Same fear. But it's my brother right in front of me and I have to watch him get torn apart. And I can't help him, Phil. There isn't anything I can do to help him. And when it isn't Matt, it's Beth. Or _Ruby_. They go after my family! My little girl!"

_I know there's got to be some peace in me, but I can't find it. _

I can see the tears in his eyes and as he takes in another shuddering breath, I reach out and grab the back of his neck, and I bring it in towards my shoulder. I wrap my other arm around him as he starts shaking.

"Shh… it's okay, Jeff. It's been like that for me, too. I promise it gets better. They'll never get your family. They're locked up." He whispers to me brokenly.

"It just hurt so bad. I thought it was over. I can't get away. It's like a nightmare I'll never wake up from. It sucks. I hate it. I can't _stand _it."

_I get so sick of looking._

I rub his back softly.

"I'm here. I was there with you, and I'm here now. I'll always be here for you. I'm sorry you got sucked into it, and I'm sorry it's still under your skin. I'm gonna fix it. We made it, okay? The hardest part is over."

_Happiness, straight from the bottle, when real life's too hard to swallow._

The ensuing months had to be long for Jeff. But not as long as the ones that had preceded them. I promised I'd be there for him, and I was. Through the hell that is rehab, the agony of living it all over again in therapy, I was there for his family while he sorted out his demons. With the promise that he'll call me, I'm now faced with my own final test.

Hey, all the people who will never read this, it's lil' ole me once again, your favorite sarcastic asshole, CM Punk. Before I wrap this little chapter up, I'm gonna leave myself a little conformation note. Punk, Jeff is doing better than he ever has. This was the very last intervention you'd ever have to conduct. He's happy, he's back in wrestling, he can hold his daughter and kiss his wife and sleep at night. He's been clean for 5 months now, he's satisfied with the life he's living. You helped him through that. The basement did not ruin his life. It's not your fault, no matter what the little voices try to tell you. You were there for him, just like you said. Don't blame yourself. Jeff is fine, Jeff is good. You are fine, you are good.

_Happiness, straight from the bottle, when real life's too hard to swallow._

Reviews?


	51. Chapter 51: Sick Of It

Chapter 51: Sick Of It

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: SICK OF IT BY SKILLET

_When everything you do don't seem to matter, you try but it's no use, your world is getting blacker. _

I look at myself in the mirror and make a face. I don't like me in a suit. I look like a goddamn lawyer or someone else boring. But today is going to be full of things I don't like. I take a black (all business) Sharpie off my nightstand and X up my hands carefully. I'm still me, even if I am in a gross suit. I kiss AJ goodbye and head downstairs to hail a cab. On the short drive to the courthouse I try and stomp down the fear that stirs in my chest. _They can't hurt you anymore. __It's been over four months. You can do this. You're better than them and their basement and their torture and their weapons and their cowardice. _No amount of "positive self-talk" as Dr. Kwynn calls it, will prepare me for what's ahead. I take a deep breath and pay the driver when we arrive. I duck out of the car and sigh. I really wish Dean could be here. Sure, he's talked me through this a thousand times, but it'd be comforting if he could accompany me in the trial we spoke so often of. I meet the prosecution lawyer at the base of the stairs. "Hello, Mr. Brooks. I'm Rory Turner, and I'll be the prosecution attorney for the case you'll be called as a witness to. I understand that you're under some significant anxiety regarding it, but I can assure you that I'll have this wrapped up fairly quickly. All the evidence says that these men are guilty. All you need to do is tell the truth." I force a smile. He's a nice enough guy, I trust him and all, but I've been dreading this encounter since the day I was rescued. I never wanted to be near those shitbags again. I'll never admit it, but the mere thought of being in the same room as them strikes the kind of fear in me that I thought I left in the basement. Three videos, no more than an hour or two combined, but it hasn't even started and it feels like forever_. Breathe. What's the worst that could happen?_

Dammit, Punk. Haven't you learned anything?

Never ask questions you don't want to know the answers to.

The worst that could happen?_ Really? _All your fucking nightmares could come true. You could be dragged back down to hell, alone with Hunter and Paul. The entire fucking court room could be in on it. You could spontaneously combust. Vince McMahon could be the judge. Rory could somehow incriminate you with the evidence, with his crazy genius lawyer mojo. Randal could be on the jury. You could break down crying in the middle of the trial. The Earth could open up and swallow us all.

_Shut up. You can do this._

I shake my head hard to snap myself out of it.

"Hey, Rory." I shake his hand. "Listen, you're planning on showing the footage Dean sent you? That he got from the police in regards to prosecution evidence?"

"That is correct."

"Can you assure me that none of the other men involved in those videos will be punished?" He looks a little taken aback, but this is important to me. I need to prove to them, and to myself, that I can rise above them. That they didn't fuck me up bad enough that I feel the need to tattle on them. It's a pride thing, and it's probably the wrong thing to do, but I need this little thing. I can't quite explain why, but I really need to feel in control of my life. He shrugs.

"If that's what you want, Mr. Brooks."

"Thanks." He shows a hint of a friendly smile, and pulls at his tie awkwardly.

"Should've thought of all the suits I'd have to wear before I made the genius decision to choose a profession that revolves around them." I grin nervously and laugh a little.

"I'm right there with you, man."

"I'm trying to be like, professional and that, but I have to say this before I go into full-on stiff, cardboard Rory. You are incredibly brave for doing this, Mr. Brooks." I smile shyly.

"Thank you. I'm so freaked out, I really needed that."

He jerks his thumb in the direction of the doors.

"We should get going."

_you try but it's no use, your world is getting blacker. _

"The prosecution calls Mr. Phillip Jack Brooks to the stand." That's my cue. I walk up to the witness stand stiffly and avert my eyes away from the defense stand. Paul and Hunter. The two men who haunt me, day and night, the two men I force myself to stop thinking about on a daily basis, the two men I never wanted to see again, the two men I can't seem to get away from. Not to mention Scary Ass Defense Attorney Man. I wonder what his superpower is. Together they form the unstoppable team of Destroy Punk's Confidence Men. I put my right hand on the Bible and my left hand up.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I swear."

"Take your seat, Mr. Brooks." Rory comes to me and I tell myself to breathe. _You're innocent here. Just tell them what happened._ For the first time I notice how many people are here. The whole floor and the balcony are full. There were literally people all around me. I don't know how I didn't notice. My friends, Nic and Jay, who gave testimony before me, strangers, the press. Not to mention Brock, Randal and Kane. I'm already afraid of the defense attorney. There's something off about him. "Mr. Brooks, where were you on the evening of August 15th, 2013?"

"The Staples Center in Los Angeles."

"And what were you doing there?"

"Performing at World Wrestling Entertainment's Summer Slam. I wrestled Brock Lesnar in one of the more high-profile matches on the card, and he went over." I correct myself quickly as I remember that the vast majority of the human population doesn't understand wrestling lingo. "That means I lost."

"What did you do after you left the Staples Center?"

"I drove to my hotel in a rental. It was really late by the time I got there. As I approached my room, I could tell someone was following me. When I turned around, someone knocked me to the ground and assaulted me." I bow my head and point to a scar. "They split my head open. I get injected with some kind of drug, and I pass out."

"Can you identify the individual or individuals who assaulted you?" Now I have to look at them. I don't have a choice. _Breathe. _I point in their direction as they glower at me. Trying to intimidate me. I have to fight like hell not to let them do it. "Can you say the men's names for the record?"

"Paul Heyman and Paul Levesque." Some mumbling arises from the crowd and the judge pounds his gavel. I jump when he does it, and Hunter smirks slightly. I wasn't expecting the loud noise right by my ear, but it doesn't help that I'm on edge as is. But I feel Hunter's eyes, and I feel what that look was conveying. _Ten seconds into your testimony and I'm already winning. Ha, ha, fucking ha. _

_When every time you fail has no answer, _

"Order!" Pound. Pound. Pound. Rory gets back to the matter at hand.

"Mr. Brooks, can you describe what happened when you woke up?"

"I think it was Monday, because they got me on Sunday night."

_I wake up to a dull, throbbing pain in my head and soft laughter. My immediate thought is that the laugh I heard before I blacked out sounded a lot like… But it can't be…_

_"Oh good, you're awake."_

_Groaning quietly, I peel my eyes open,__and as I try to wipe them I find my hands are secured behind my back. __I clumsily try to blink the blood out so I can see_ _without the luxury of being able to use my arms__. Cold realization creeps over me and I realize I am completely and totally screwed. I was right about the laugh,__but I didn't want to be__. I recognize that voice. That's the voice I owe my entire career in WWE to. I got my first real chance from that voice. We were so close, he can't be behind this. _

_"Paul," I start cautiously, but gain speed as panic sets in, "what's going on? I thought we were friends! You aren't buying into all that McMahon storyline bullshit now, are you? What the hell is going on?"_

_"__All in due time, Punk. All in due time__," replies the Paulrus. _

I shake my head hard and try to refocus. I must've been a sight, because everyone is gaping at me.

"Are you alright, Mr. Brooks?"

"… wha? Uh, yeah, I think."

"Do you need a recess?" _Breathe. _

"No, I'm fine." Which is a lie.

_every empty promise made is a reminder. _

"If you're sure… did you see both of the defendants upon regaining consciousness?"

"No. Just Heyman." I leave Brock's name out, for a lot of reasons, for a lot of theories that swirl around in my head. But the simple answer is that I'm not giving him the satisfaction.

"What happened next?"

"He talked for a while about how he wanted to break me… not kill me, he wanted me to beg him to kill me, but he wouldn't. He took my wedding ring from me, which I found later after I was rescued." I see Heyman's face darken at that. _Yeah, your sick plan didn't work. How sad__._

_No one can make this better, _

"Then someone punched my lights out."

"Who was that?" There's really no way out of it now.

"Brock Lesnar." My eyes drift to his face, out in the third row. There's a weird expression on it. It's not satisfaction, like I was expecting. Not angry, not nervous. It's almost a teeny, tiny bit of remorse.

_take control it's now or never._

The rest of it looks mildly surprised by the following statement.

"You've expressed to me that you do not want Mr. Lesnar to be punished for his actions, is that correct?" I guess Brock wasn't expecting me to free him from blame. I was adamant that I wanted it done this way. I almost laugh at the phrasing of his question. Rory's right. He does sound like he's made of cardboard. It's comforting to know he's really chill in real life.

"Yeah."

"What happened the next time you woke up?"

"Can you just play the video? I don't really want to describe it." I flinch at the memory and sick satisfaction spreads over Paul and Hunter's faces.

_Are you sick of it? _

"Of course, Mr. Brooks." Rory goes back to his desk and grabs a small remote. He presses a couple buttons and a screen comes down from the ceiling of the adjacent wall. The projector above it flickers to life, showing a blank black screen at the moment. Feedback rings out from the crackling speakers.

**"Viewer discretion is advised, prevalent violence and profanity included in the upcoming footage." **

Comes up in block lettering, but no one moves.

_Raise your hands! _

I think they all knew what they were getting into when they came here. I force myself to watch it as the image of myself bound to a rafter, my face caked in dried blood, shows up on screen. Basement me tests the binds by putting all my weight against it. Doesn't work, and I wince as small drops of blood drip from my wrists. I kick Paul as soon as he's within range. Basement Paul doubles over, then glares furiously at basement me.

_Get rid of it, _

"Teach him a lesson, Brock," Paul snarls. Basement me's eyes widen as basement Lesnar approaches me. He begins to nail me in the stomach with the giant clubs he calls hands again, and again, and again. Waiting for me to get up each time. Until I can't anymore. Blood trickles from my mouth as I try to kick him feebly. At some point, Paul calls Lesnar off of me. "We wouldn't want to damage him too bad before the plan comes together, now would we?" Confusion runs visibly across my face at the word 'plan'.

_while there's a fighting chance!_

I hang from the ropes holding me upright, spitting in Heyman's general direction. He smiles condescendingly. "When will you learn to stop resisting? You're only hurting yourself," Heyman says, smirking. "No, you just have to be the fighter, don't you? Well, I said it once and I'll say it again, that will change in due time." I know what's coming and I turn my head away from the screen, holding my hands over my ears lightly. I know I'll have to hear it. I just don't want to. "We are going to break you, Punk. We are going to make you scream and cry out for us to stop and it's not going to end. You will beg for us to kill you. And we aren't going to. In the end you will be a broken shell of a man. What we are going to do to you is going to make you wish you were dead. That fire in your eyes is going to go out like a light. We're going to make you submissive. And there's nothing you can do about it," Heyman says reverently. My angry reply follows in a whisper. I make myself look at the screen again.

_Are you over it? _

"How do you and your stupid bitch plan on doing that?" Muted defiance blazes in my eyes. I'm desperately trying to cover up my fear. I wonder if it's as apparent to everyone else as it is to me.

"You're going to wish you hadn't said that," Paul scolds. As he walks over to the table, Lesnar glares at me. "Good luck getting out of this one, tough guy." He taunts me before taking a scissors that Paul hands him. In a raspy, cracked voice, I whisper to him,

"Luck is for losers Brock." I almost laugh, because that's such a classic, knee-jerk response for me, but all of the things that make me, me made me pay down there. They hated every single fucking thing about me. The reason I was down there, and the reason why I constantly, uncontrollably made things worse for myself and Jeff, is the simple fact that I am me. That made them so mad, just the fact that I'm me. Funny to think that after all that, I'm free, still out here being me, being that guy they hated so much, while their asses are getting locked up for trying to stop me from doing that.

_Bored to death? _

Basement me is far from thinking anything is funny, though. I don't know if I'm the only one who can tell, but I'm scared out of my mind. He smirks, bringing the scissors close to my neck, and I flinch. He laughs at me before cutting my t-shirt off, revealing bruises from the beating I'd sustained only moments earlier. Lesnar throws my torn up shirt in a corner of the room and stands in front of me, waiting for Paul to give him what I now know will be a belt. I attempt to lift a foot to kick Lesnar again, and receive a couple more stiff punches to my now exposed and already injured ribs. "God, you're stupid, aren't you?" Lesnar goads me. Heyman's now returning with said belt and a length of rope.

"Why are you making this so hard on yourself, Punk? I recommend you stop fighting, it's only going to get worse if you keep being this stubborn," Paul threatens me. He knows exactly how it's tearing me apart inside to be at his mercy without any sort of way to fight back. Lesnar ties my feet together tightly with the rope, earning him a kick to the face.

"Get off me, you fuck-faced lackey!" I scream, trying to kick Lesnar again with my bound feet. I know exactly what's about to come of this. The way Paul talks to me is almost worse than what they'll end up doing to me.

"You'd be surprised how many ways you can torture a man without killing him," Paul taunts me. It still sends shivers down my spine, all these months later. It feels like yesterday. Turns out there's a whole lot of ways to torture a man without killing him. I found out first hand just how close you can get. I can feel that same frantic thought going through my head. _He's gone off the deep end. What am I gonna do? _And now I know the answer. Nothing. There was nothing I could do. There was no way out.

_Have you had enough regret? _

"If I were you, I'd learn to control my anger. Just face what's coming to you, Punk. It's not going to change," Heyman sneers, handing the belt to Lesnar. His face lights up maniacally for a moment as he reaches in his pocket. I fight harder against the ropes, I know where he's going with this. He retrieves my ring and holds it in front of my face. I go from anger back to fear in an instant. I'm such a fucking idiot. There's no way I'm getting it back now, not after the way I talked back to them. I run my fingers over my ring nervously as I watch, feeling the panic I see in my own eyes. _I have it now. I have it, they can't take it._ "Go crazy, Brock. Don't hold back for our little guest, here. He can use an attitude adjustment." Here we go.

_Take a stand, raise your hands! _

Lesnar approaches me from behind, the idea being that I can't kick him with as much force from this angle.

"I'm gonna beat you like the little bitch you are." Lesnar informs me.

"Take another step, you fucking dickbiscuit. I dare you."

"What're you gonna do, spit on me?"

I had figured that my ring was as good as gone… what did I have to lose?

_If you're sick of it!_

"Why don't you untie me and we can see who the real man is you stupid son of a bi—" I'm cut off as Lesnar starts whipping me with all his might. Which is a lot of might. It tears into my back, red hot agony coming down in angry stripes. I feel it all, my blood being shed once again. It's like being right there, the same as before. Basement me keeps my head down. Present me winces each time they hit basement me. I can see myself force down screams, can see how hard I bite my lip.

"Any smart remarks now, Mr. Pipebomb?" Heyman continues to taunt me as Lesnar mercilessly brings the weapon down across my back. As the belt cracks down on me again and again, I arch my back away from the stupid bastard and thrash wildly with my feet, knowing I'm not going to hit anything, and of course nothing I do will make the abuse stop. When in doubt, cuss them out. As the strikes increase in frequency, the curses decrease in it. "Fuck you Heyman!" *crack* "Fuck you," *crack* "and your stupid," *crack* "sadistic," *crack* "bastard," *crack* "boyfriend!"*crack* "Go to hell!" *crack* "I'm going to kill," *crack* "both of you once," *crack* "I get out of," *crack* "this hellhole!" *crack* "Fuck!" *crack* "Fuck!" *crack* "Fuck!" *crack* Now is when I really begin to lose emphasis. "Fuck." *crack* "Fuck." *crack* "Fuck." *crack* "Fuck." *crack* "Stop, dammit! *crack* "Fu—" *crack* "AH!" *crack*

_Every single day I chase my own tail. _

My threats get quieter as I lose myself in the pain. Soon I give in to the misery and a small yelp begins to follow each of those damn lashes. I allow myself to dangle from my hand restraints as I pull my legs up every time the whip snaps across my back, purely out of reflex as I know there is no way for me to protect my back. Doing my best to swing at them with my bound legs, I try futilely to get free. I yank on the rope pinioning my arms overhead and kick out weakly to try to catch Lesnar off guard. I even make contact a few times, but so much of my strength is gone that my kicks have little or no effect on the Beast. He hits me a couple more times before stepping back to admire his sick handiwork. Groaning, I close my eyes. The weakness in my body causes me to hang pitifully from the rafter, my legs limp behind me. I feel the agony as fire, washing over me like a fresh wound, even though it's months old.

_Like a rat inside a maze, _

It comes as white hot knives stabbing all over me. It's all I can do not to start begging them to let me out of this room, away from the scrutiny of these strangers who've been let in on my darkest secret, away from the people who did this to me in the first place. I have to kill the emotions inside me with the thought that I'm doing this to get justice, or I'd be crying, the pain is **that** unbearable.

_I've gotta get, gotta get, get away._

"Did you enjoy yourself, Punk? Do you think that maybe you're going to be more polite from now on? Or would you rather do this again sometime?" Once again I can't stand on my feet, and I refuse to bring my head up to meet the gaze of the man who ordered this savage beating, worrying I won't be able to stay strong. Paul clears his throat, which I know is some sort of signal to Lesnar, he grabs my chin and forces me to look up. I groan and wince as my head is yanked up and Heyman's ugly mug is suddenly right up in my face again. I don't trust myself to answer in a steady voice. Instead, I take whatever fire I have left inside me and force it into the glare I give Heyman, trying to convey that he's going to have to try harder than that. He rolls my ring in his palm.

"Yeah, something tells me you aren't getting this back. Have it your way. Let's see if a night tied up like the bratty little bitch you are will change your mind." Paul gives me a swift kick in my injured ribs for good measure before heading up the stairs with his "guy" in tow.

_I'm running out of time for me to break this. _

The video comes to an end. A still photo taken at the hospital of my back shows up in its place. It's really gruesome, and as I start to look away, I see Paul and Hunter flat-out smiling at me. I think Rory has two more videos to show, and I don't know if I can handle it all. I look to the wood desk below me and run a hand over my shaved head. This is even harder than I thought it'd be.

"Are you able to continue, Mr. Brooks?"

"Just give me a second, Rory." _Breathe. _I can feel everyone's eyes on me as I try to calm myself down. "Alright, go ahead."

"When did you first see the second defendant?"

"Around the same time Jeff showed up."

"And Mr. Hardy is not well enough to testify this afternoon?"

"That's correct. He just got out of rehab and the whole ordeal in the basement messed up his mental health. It wouldn't be good for him to try and do this. He wouldn't be a whole lot of help with the mindset he's in anyway."

"Under what pretense did Mr. Hardy arrive at the premises?" I scratch the back of my head nervously. _Just tell the truth. Breathe. _

"He'd come to the house because he was worried about me. There's a lot of gray area around our situation, but the basis is that it wasn't a good idea for people to know we were friends. So we talked on the phone to stay in touch. I hadn't called him because I was in the basement, and he thought something was up. I don't have a ton of friends that he could contact about it, and as far as he knew, Paul and I were close friends, so he tracked Paul's cell phone to our location to ask him about me. I heard him upstairs and weighed my options, figuring that Jeff was my only chance for escape, but that I didn't want him to be stuck there with me. So I screamed for help, he came downstairs and tried to get me free. They blindsided him and tased him until he passed out. I begged them to let him go, but they didn't listen to me." I know what he still has to show. When they drowned me, and when I was on the table. To show Hunter and Paul assaulting me directly, not through someone else. I stare at Paul for a second, and as he grins his shit-eating grin at me, I remember something. Something I didn't want to remember. The text I got a couple days removed from my rescue.

"YOU GOT LUCKY. THIS ISN'T OVER."

_I'm tired of feeling like I'm never going to make it. _

And for the first time I realize what he meant. It isn't over because this is the final round. Their last stand, their last chance to mess with me before they're locked up. And Paul knew exactly how hard this would be for me. I push my palms away from the desk and crack my knuckles. _Breathe. It'll be over by tomorrow. _These are the longest minutes of my life.

"The prosecution would like to present another piece of video evidence." It begins anew. The image of Jeff crumpled against the wall and Randal releasing me from my handcuffs pops up. I don't bother looking at Randal's face. I don't want, nor do I need to know what he's thinking. Instead, I clench my fists, suck it up and watch as the sick scene unfolds slowly before me.

"You run, you fight, next time we won't give your friend as much mercy as we just did." I don't flinch, don't say a word. Just like he did to Jeff so many times, he grabs my hair and smacks my head against the concrete wall. "Look at me! Do you understand?" I wince and glare at Randal.

"Whatever you say, Randal." I give Randal a shadow of a grin. I know now from experience that I made a mistake.

_No one can make this better, _

"You think this is funny? Your crippled, chained up ass thinks this is funny? You think this is a joke? You think what's gonna happen here is a fucking joke?" The fear begins to drain from my face and I start to act like myself again now that I know Jeff's not in jeopardy… at the moment. That isn't the smartest move, but it's good for me to let loose instead of living in fear of these lunatics.

"Yeah, kind of." I laugh a little. Jeff gives a small smile, which I guess was a mistake too.

"You think this is funny too, Hardy? I didn't fuck you up bad enough to keep you quiet?"

"Guess not," I taunt, I'm trying to keep their attention off of Jeff. He's in no condition to try and fight with Randal. "Hey, Randal, 'member when Jericho told you your face looks like it got smashed in with a frying pan?" Randy growls in response. I'm so stupid. I feel a ghost pain in my arm, knowing what's about to happen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This is one of the reasons why you can't wrestle yet, genius. "He's wrong. It's not nearly that attractive. More like went through a meat grinder."

"Thank you for your irrelevant opinion.

"You're very welcome. Go ahead, get me out of these, let's get this over with."

"That's what you'd like, isn't it?" Now Randal is smiling. That unsettles me.

_take control it's now or never._

He gets on his knees, straddling my legs so I can't kick him. He takes hold of each of my arms, right above the wrist. He pulls up sharply on the right one first and I don't supply a reaction. Randal smiles again, wider this time. "So it's the left one then, is it?" Uh oh. The color leaves my face as realization creeps over me. He knew I had a broken arm, probably because of my immediate reaction to pulling on the handcuffs when I woke up. He didn't know which arm, until now. I look up at Randy with a slightly different expression. Somewhere between 'fuck you' and 'I'm fucked'. Randal pulls hard on my left arm and forces a shriek out of me. I don't think I've ever made a sound like that before. Randal is laughing now and Hunter and Heyman are chuckling behind him too. He rips at my arm again, and I scream through my teeth. When Randal lets go, I'm right back on him, talking through clenched teeth.

"Some tough guy you are. Why don't I tie him up and _then_ beat the shit out of him, cause ya know, if he fights back he might stand a chance and we can't have that. You guys are pathetic. Me and Jeff are more man than any of you will ever be, cause not fucking _one_ of you would've lasted even close to as long as we have. So I don't know why you guys do this, but just remember that although you mock our pride, that's what has got us this far. So fuck you Randal, and fuck your friends too." I spit it out angrily.

"You're so goddamn stupid." Randal kneels next to me, unlocking my handcuffs and ignoring the kicks and the knees that I land on him. As soon as I'm freed, Randal wraps an arm around my neck and smiles as I tear at it, trying to breathe. Randal can hold all of my weight so I can't drop down out of it. I'm choking. Jeff picks himself up and limps over, takes a tack out of his collarbone and sticking it in Randal's back. Randal lets go of me and turns to Jeff, slowly, menacingly. I stand there stupidly, frozen and afraid. "Sit your ass down now or I'll do it for you." He threatens Jeff. Jeff holds his arms out straight beside him like a T.

"Try me." Randal stalks towards him and he backs up a step, then another and another until his back is against the wall and he gasps in pain as his back and all of the tacks in it hit the wall. Randal closes in and Jeff sticks a tack—I don't know when he got it out— in his cheek. Randal yelps in surprise and Jeff dodges past him to see that in my paralytic state, I'm being restrained by Hunter, he's holding my arms tightly behind my back. Jeff kicks Paul in the stomach as hard as he can, enough to immobilize him for a second. Then he stands in front of Hunter and makes eye contact with me. I get the signal and kick Hunter in the balls. Hunter lets go and Jeff grabs my good arm to direct me towards the stairs. I'm faster than he is because he can barely walk at this point.

_Are you sick of it? _

I'm almost there when I hear an angry curse from Randal and the tell-tale sounds of Jeff struggling in pain. I turn my head and back pedal until I'm against the wall, just steps away from the stairs, just steps away from freedom. Hunter hollers at me with the air of someone who knows he's won. Again.

"Go ahead. Run. Get out of here. You'll never be able to live with yourself knowing what we'll do to him because of you." He's right, and I know it. I drop to my knees and allow Hunter to cuff my hands behind my back. Jeff is still trying to get out of Randy's arms, and he must be getting pissed cause suddenly his grip gets a whole lot tighter and Jeff grunts, visibly in pain.

_Raise your hands! _

Hunter grabs my hair again and forces me up to my feet. He then pulls me by my broken arm back towards the bathtub. I wince as splitting pain returns to my injury. Jeff elbows Randal in the face as I pass and he curses, throwing Jeff to the floor. He tries to get up but his elbows buckle under him and his face smacks the ground again, hard.

_Get rid of it, _

Randal drags him by his hair to where I am. Jeff tries to get it out of his grasp, but he can't and Randal grabs his arm as well, making sure to press the tacks in with his thumb. He dumps him where he and I were before. Randal starts attaching the cuffs that held me previously to his wrists. He fights feebly but Randal lets out a growl and manages to restrain him. Then he gets up, scowling, and drops a small clump of blue hair, his hair, at his feet. I feel bile rise up in my throat at the sight and Jeff glares at him. Paul is getting up now, fuming I can tell.

_while there's a fighting chance!_

"Your little piss-ass is going to pay for that." Randy tells me. He picks the tack out of his cheek and wipes blood from his face that I know Jeff shed, between his elbow strikes and the tack. Hunter steps a foot in the back of my knee joint, forcing me down. I'm on my knees now, staring at the bathtub. "What's wrong, smartass? All it takes is a threat of some cold water to shut your fucking mouth?" I can see myself force down fear and try to keep my composure.

"Just do it." I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Randy smiles and so does Hunter, they each grab one of my shoulders and drag me up to the edge of the bathtub, keeping me on my knees and making sure Jeff can see me. They each put a hand on the back of my head and I squint my eyes shut tighter. They look at each other and smile, then force my head under the water. I see my cuffed hands move up and down my back and my head thrash under the water, but I'm not strong enough to get them off. Jeff pulls at his restraints and his mouth stays wide open. I watch as they hold me there until I accept that I'm going to die and then they pull me up again. Jeff screams hoarsely at them because I'm not breathing, and goes into a subsequent coughing fit. Randal stomps hard on my chest until my breathing starts up again, and the video stops. Freeze-framed, inadvertently, is the still image of me gasping for air. Rory pushes another button and the screen goes blank. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in.

_Are you over it? _

He comes close to me.

"Can you handle one more?" He whispers. I look up at him, then down to my trembling hands, then back up again.

"Is this the one with Paul?"

"Yes sir, it is." I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Yeah, sure."

"The prosecution has one final video to present." He presses another button and I look away. I'm not watching this one. I can't break down in this courtroom. Here we go. Last one. _Breathe. _

_Bored to death? _

"Damn, stop it. Please stop, Kane." A dark laugh is chased by short, intermittent buzzes. My staccato, but choppy outbursts become one long, loud shriek until the buzzing stops. Between ragged gasps for air, I whisper, "Please."

"I want you to start calling everyone who comes in here, who isn't Jeff, Master." I can feel blood rush to my face at that comment.

"No." So he starts again. I fight off sobs at first, but at some point I break down into hysterics. "I-I-I'll do a-anything, just stop, please, p-please, I can't t-take this any longer." I'm given reprieve for a second.

"You know exactly how to make it stop." Jeff's voice throws itself into the fray next.

"Fuck that. He ain't calling you Master. You don't own him." A clinking suggests that my arm is being released. The crunch isn't audible outside of my internal reception of it, but I know it happened because more screams come next. The gasps become more frequent and close together.

"You're so fucking stubborn. You're only making this harder on yourself. Why do you make me do this?"

"Because I'm not a coward." I've heard this bullshit enough times while Dean was helping me prepare that I could recite it from memory.

_Have you had enough regret? _

However, it's a lot harder to endure under the scrutiny of a room full of people.

"My _best_ friend. That's what you thought you were, right? I've known you for almost 10 years now, haven't I? I don't think you came into this week a coward, I never said that. But I do think you'll leave this week a coward. I know you like to think of yourself as some kind of hero, to your fans, am I right?" I can hear the fear and apprehension in my voice.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do you remember when I told you Brock's theory about heroes?"

"S-s-show me a hero a-and I'll show you a coward who r-r-r-ran out of options or a fool who is too s-s-stupid to s-stay down." The fear rings true in my voice, as it shakes from the sobs that wrack my body. I don't have to see it to know.

_Take a stand, raise your hands, if you're sick of it!_

"Right. I believe there is a third part to that theory. I think that third part applies to you. Perhaps you could show me a hero and I can show you a fighter who lets his courage overpower his sense of logic. That's what I've always thought about you, all that hero worship you receive. In the real world, heroes don't win. People like you, the fighters, the proud ones, you all fall in the end. You fall to people like me, smart people. There's a reason why you're lying there and I'm standing over you." Oh god, not this again. _Breathe._ "Because I'm better than you are. I'm sick of you and how you think you're such a big shot. When I met you, you were nothing. No one wanted to book you, because you're so fucking impossible to work with or reason with. No one wanted to wrestle you, because you're such a perfectionist. No one wanted to hire you, because you're a sarcastic asshole with no filter. You like to call it 'telling it how it is', but really, you just don't know when to shut the hell up. I took you in, I got you a job and put my entire career on the line because I saw myself in you. I thought you were just a little difficult, a little rough around the edges. You don't like to follow orders, you break the rules, you lied, manipulated people when you had to. I do those same things, it makes you a tough hire. I empathized, but you caught on so quickly once you got here that I immediately saw you for what you were. A stubborn piece of shit without a shred of common sense. You never knew when to run away from a fight. Remember what I used to say to you on screen? 'You don't fight for free, you don't fight for free'? You don't even know what that means. You can back off sometimes!" He yells. "Fucking choose your battles!" Then he gets quiet. Eerily quiet. "Nope, no. CM Punk chooses _**all**_ the battles. I _hate_ that about you. I tried for years to make you into something useful, but you don't bend. Not one inch." He assumes a mocking tone. "'I know I can do this, Paul.' 'I'm better than they think I am, Paul.' 'You trust me, don't you, Paul?' 'They're wrong about me, Paul.' 'They don't own me, Paul! **You** don't own me. _No one_ owns me.' 'It'll ruin my career, Paul.' 'I want to put him over, Paul. He's hot, I'm not ending that. My name isn't Triple H.' 'Fuck him.' 'Fuck that.' 'Luck is for losers, Paul.' You're completely insufferable. Not a moment goes by that I don't regret that day I got you signed. And then I had to fake like I was your friend, you know why I did that? Why I put myself through that? For this moment. This, right here. I've wanted to test that courage, that fighting spirit you've got for a long time. To sum it up, you'll always be that stubborn little punk kid that I hired in 2005, and you call yourself that because you're too stupid to realize it's a bad thing. You've gotten too arrogant, and it's pissed me the hell off for years. I really, really dreamed of the chance to humble you. See how long it'd take to destroy that courage. I longed to break your vaunted fighting spirit." Damn, it really hurts. I knew it was coming, I knew, and it still hurts. It hurts like hell.

_I'm tired of it!_

"So that's why I'm doing this, since you wanted to know. I know what a storyline is, Punk. I'm not stupid—" I cut him off.

"Please forgive me for not being perfect, oh great and powerful Oz." My voice bites with corrosive bitterness to hide the hurt inside. Sarcasm is a knee jerk reflex for me, one of the only things I can do without thinking. And I couldn't think right then. This was my only alternative to shaking and quivering in fear. A zap to my chest reminds me that no matter what I say, I don't have control over this situation. Paul is irascible. That spells trouble for me. It always has.

_I'm over it!_

"Oh shut the fuck up, will you? I never expected perfect. I just was hoping you wouldn't be such a freakin moron. But I should've known. I thought you were stupid when you started dating that crazy bitch, and then you married her!" Even now, all this time later, I have to mentally restrain myself from vaulting this wooden cage and throttling Paul for talking about my wife this way. He had no fucking right to bring her into this. No right.

_I'm bored of it!_

"Don't say a fucking word against AJ. Not one more fucking word."

"Who's gonna stop me? The only person in the world who **chooses** to spend time with you, other than that little slut, is somewhat _tied up_ at the moment."

"Shut. Up."

"It's not my fault you're an idiot! Punk, tell me; what's crazy gonna do when she finds out you like Jeff's pussy better than hers?" I can only growl in response. Words can't express how angry I am. "And now you're so pissed already. You're so easy. Oh wait, no, that's AJ, isn't it? You've always been this way. You're like a cockroach. Impossible to get rid of. You just don't know when to quit."

"I'll quit when hell freezes over." The sound of his open hand striking my face rings out in the room. I don't have to see Paul's face to know that he's smiling.

"I honestly think it'll come a lot sooner than that. You're bound to a table, immobilized, with an evil genius, a remorseless monster, a room full of weapons and no one to save you. Please educate me as to how you'll get out of this." I didn't know the answer back then. I was speechless. Now I know. I'll get out of this when the evil genius messes with the wrong badass kid. "Wow, CM Punk, always the man with the plan, is left speechless. Open your fucking eyes." I don't comply. A hard shock to my raw midsection that doesn't go away forces me to do what he asked. "Yeah, there you go. I like seeing the fear in those eyes. I fucking love it."

_Got to fix this,_

"You're fucking twisted."

"Thank you. I want you to understand how sweet this picture is for me, right now. You're helpless, you have been all week. I see it finally setting in with you. In all that time I've known you, I have never seen you act this way. Scream this loud. Cry this hard. Beg, even. I've really never seen fear from you. There isn't room for it with how much sarcasm is shoved in that brain of yours. I see it now, though. A whole lot of it. Directed at _me_, nonetheless. You're afraid of what **I **can do to you, of what'll happen next. You know **I** control that. I think **I've** made you into a coward. I think **I've** made you weak, second guess your resolve. I think I've created a situation to finally break this hero I saw in you. I say saw because I don't see it so much anymore. I see you for what you really are. A guy who scratched and clawed, but has been in over his head in life for a while now and is too proud to admit it. I knew how it'd happen, how you'd break. You think you're invincible, in the beginning you thought I wasn't capable of accomplishing it. But I brought in more and more people, more weapons, used your friend against you, and you started to question yourself. Hopelessness began to set in as I won, round after round. You started to realize that you didn't have it in you to beat me. Then it reached its zenith, right now, it'll all come tumbling down on you when you start going through more pain than you thought existed in the world. You'll get real close tonight, but not all the way. Tomorrow is what'll do it." You had it down to a tee, Paul. Up until that last little sentence, there. That was where you were wrong.

_I'm sick of it!_

"Look at you. You've been reduced to a shaking, sobbing, screaming mess. You've caved under a little pain. If only all your fans, your true-blue ROH followers, could see you now. Man, I really expected you to last longer." You're wrong about me, Paul. You're wrong.

"P-P-Paul,"

"No, just stop. I think we both know you know you had this coming. Turn him over." No. I didn't deserve this, you're crazy. It's not on me. It's on you.

"No, n-n-n-no, don't do this to me, Paul, please—" I'm cut off when Paul holds the prod on my chest, that's how I identify the next scream. A hissing noise follows it. Buzz. "I'm still here." Paul taunts. Buzz. Scream. Buzz. Scream. Buzz. Scream. Buzz. Scream. That's how he goes about it. After it's gone on for what feels like forever, I break down in hard sobs for the first time. Each buzz becomes accompanied by a thump of my head against the table, and a scream. Some more time passes in this fashion before more dialogue transpires between us.

"Fuck, Paul, it hurts. It hurts so much, stop, Paul, please stop. Whatever I did to you, I'm sorry. Please make it stop, Paul. Please."

"Some hero you are." The pattern keeps going and going as I scream and scream.

_Are you sick of it? Raise your hands! Get rid of it, while there's a fighting chance! _

"Fuck!" I scream myself hoarse. Sometime after, he deprives me of the short breaks I had been receiving. "No more. Please," I beg. My face flushes again at the way I give myself up to him. _You didn't have another option. You did everything you could._

"You can handle more."

"I can't, Paul. I can't." He seems to think I'm wrong, because the screams and the buzzes continue. But this time, I hear Jeff clear as day.

"You've been led down the wrong path and I'm not angry at you," He pauses, expecting, or maybe just desperately hoping I'd finish it. "I just feel sorry for you. Punk, it's I just feel sorry for you." His tone gets more desperate. "Punk!" My blurry screams and dull thumps continue until the video is shut off. I wipe silent tears from my face and cover them up as best as I can. Paul and Hunter can't see how much this is _still_ affecting me.

"Are you alright, Mr. Brooks?" _Breathe._

"Sure, let's go with that."

"No further questions." He heads back towards his desk and turns to the defense attorney. "Your witness."

_Are you over it? Bored to death? Have you had enough regret? Take a stand, raise your hands, if you're sick of it!_

A/N: I myself used to go to a therapist for depression, and a mental hospital for the same reason. During that whole ordeal, a phrase you hear a lot is "positive self-talk". It annoyed me, still does, but what that means is that you say good, encouraging things to yourself. You know, like "you can do it," "keep trying," "you're worth it" etc. So if you've never had the displeasure of dealing with that, now you're caught up.

A/N: My knowledge of the court system is based off of To Kill A Mockingbird, so if my info is a little outdated, my apologies.

Reviews?


	52. Chapter 52: Misery Loves My Company

Chapter 52: Misery Loves My Company

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: MISERY LOVES MY COMPANY BY THREE DAYS GRACE

_I am in control, _

Not over yet. Ugh. He's a giant mountain of a man, white, in his mid-30's, easily 275 pounds of muscle standing 6'3". I've been wary of large, muscular men since I escaped. Just something about them makes me painfully aware of what they could do to me if they wanted to. And I get the sense that this guy wants to. He has his jet black hair buzz cut. He looks like he'll burst out of his stiff suit. His eyes are as dark and sinister as a bottomless pit.

_I haven't lost my mind. _

I get bad vibes from him immediately. Everything about him is wrong, from his intimidating size to his furious glare to his knowledge of what his clients did to me. Not to mention the fact that my testimony incriminates them unquestionably. I know exactly how strong he is and he knows exactly how weak I am. _Weak? You're not weak. You survived. You beat them. _But it still sticks in my throat_._

_I'm picking up the pieces of the past you left behind_.

He's already got the upper hand and he hasn't asked me a single question. The nagging thought in the back of my head: _he's gonna come fuck you up when the trial is over. _What's stopping him? Nothing.

"The question I would like to lead with is simply, 'what proof is there that this whole ordeal was non-consensual?'" I almost want to laugh.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I am not one to judge others… personal preferences. And I don't believe this is a laughing matter, Mr. Brooks."

"Yeah, me neither. Do I look like I enjoyed that? Why in God's name would I be okay with being whipped, drowned, burned, tazed, yelled at, insulted, emotionally scarred and forced to watch my best friend be dismantled? I have serious PTSD from this. That's what **soldiers **get. When they come home from **war.** Does that sound like your idea of a good time, Mr. Big Intimidating Defense Attorney?"

"That would be Hertz, Mr. Brooks. Demetri Hertz."

_I don't need your condescending words about me looking lonely. _

"Cool. My friends call me CM Punk, which you are not. Now that we're acquainted, maybe we can go to Sunday brunch sometime and have tea, and start a sewing circle, and talk about the pathetic attempt at a defense you gave for your clients. Up until then, I suggest you stop wasting everyone's time and ask questions that at least make a tiny little bit of sense." He glares at me.

"Mr. Brooks, if you're prepared to take this seriously, please inform me of the reason why you do not want Brock Lesnar, Randal Orton and Glenn Jacobs to be punished for their crimes against you?" I falter for a second while I choose my words carefully.

"Glenn Jacobs was not in his right mind. Paul Heyman manipulated him, he had no conscious awareness of his actions."

"How do you know that?"

"I work with Glenn for World Wrestling Entertainment. He suffers from Intermittent Explosive Disorder. He gets these fits of rage where he doesn't know what he's doing. Paul catalyzed one within him, and he was under the influence of his affliction while in the basement. He's just as much a victim as I am. He's getting professional help."

"And the others?"

"I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of knowing they affected me bad enough to bring it into a court of law." I don't say it, but the more I think about it, the more I realize why it's so important to me that they 'get away' with this. I theorize about Brock. There's a real good possibility that Paul did something to him, like a way mild version of what he did to me, and that's why a crazy bastard like him is so submissive to a non-threatening type of person like Paul. If that's the case, I don't really know how much I can hold him accountable for what he did. He's just a puppet in Paul's grand show, a victim, a casualty, just like me.

_I don't need your arms to hold me, _

I know, better than anyone, how it feels to be manipulated by Paul Heyman. Ten years, that two-faced prick manipulated me. So even a little thing, like how Paul's been with Lesnar since day one, if he were to threaten that relationship in any way, Brock would panic. Paul has a way of making people feel like they owe him. Somehow, he forced Brock into doing something he had no real desire to do, and did it in a way in which he didn't feel forced into it and somehow 'had' the desire to do it. And Randal? Randal is sick in the head. I don't know if that's an excuse or not, but I'd much rather he stick around in WWE, where I'll be soon, so I can show him just how okay I really am. I think that's another way the basement changed me. I can actually find it in myself to forgive these guys, they were really just pawns in the game. Maybe not Randal so much. But the others, I can at least try to understand where they're coming from and why they felt they had to. I honestly just feel sorry for the two of them, Glenn with his IED and Brock with his debt to pay to Paul Heyman.

_cause misery is waiting on me. _

Randal has his own issues, whether they're his fault or not is up for debate. In any event, they get a break, in my head, so they should get a break in court. It's really my decision anyway, isn't it? I'm the victim, after all.

_I am not alone, _

"Are you sure that's why?" His baritone voice is accusatory.

"Do you think I have a different motive behind my request?"

"Yes, I do. My theory, Mr. Brooks, is that you coerced these three men into framing my clients." That's fucking ridiculous. My eyebrows knit together.

"How's that?"

"You talked Randal, Brock, and Glenn into convincing my clients to commit the crimes they've been accused of, so you could bring video evidence into the trial that 'proves'," he makes air quotes with his fingers, "that they are guilty. You're trying to free those men from blame because they aided you in your scheme. Your goal was to get my clients thrown into jail, by any means necessary. They're the real victims here, and you're the criminal."

"Objection, your honor!"

"On what grounds?"

"He's browbeating the witness!"

"Overturned."

_not beaten down just yet, _

The defense attorney smirks.

"It was quite the performance, I'll give you that, Mr. Brooks. Your little reaction to those videos." He assumes a mocking tone. "What with your inner turmoil, and your crocodile tears. You sure made it seem like it was hard for you to watch. Had the jury eating out of the palm of your hand. I'm not so easily won." I laugh a little. "Would you please educate me on what is so humorous, sir?"

"Your theory is humorous. First off, those freaking videos were hard as hell to watch. But they're an important part of getting the low-down, dirty bastards who did it to me thrown in jail. Where they belong. And your story? It's full of holes. Why would I voluntarily get the crap kicked out of me again and again and again just to incriminate somebody innocent? Paul, to my knowledge at the time, was a great friend and an important part of my life. It's no secret that I owe my whole career in WWE to him. Why would I want to get him put in jail? Another thing, if Paul and Hunter," Hunter isn't his real name… force of habit. "Excuse me, Paul and Paul, are innocent, why have they been smiling like that at me this whole time?" As I point their way, they quickly put their heads down. I laugh dryly again. "Yeah, you'll stop it _now_. I hate to break it to you, but they're guilty. There's no way around that. Even if I did 'convince'", now it's my turn to make air quotes, "them to put me through hell, they still did it. So they're guilty, even if your crackpot story were to be true, which it isn't. Clearly. You've got a college degree in law and you couldn't think of a better story than that? I would love to see you try to prove it." My confidence returned in some capacity while I picked apart his idiotic presumption.

_I am not afraid of the voices in my head. _

Guess you gotta grasp at straws when you're in his position. He fumes at me, his face turning red. He's gonna kick my ass, I know it. Might as well make the most of this while I still can think straight. "You lost this case before it even started. The truth is unquestionably, irrevocably, blatantly obvious. Paul Heyman and Paul Levesque orchestrated a plan against me and my best friend to take out their anger on us in a violent, sadistic manner. That's all there is to it." As he stares daggers at me I force myself to look back at him in smug confidence.

_Down the darkest road, _

"Is that so?"

"Sure is."

"Then how do you explain this?" He pulls out an old-fashioned tape recorder and presses the play button. Sure as shoe leather, my voice comes from it. Disjointed, but my voice nonetheless.

_something follows me, _

"And they trust you? When? Next Sunday? After our match? Perfect. Make sure it's realistic." My stomach plummets. He picked apart pieces of those videos and mashed them together to create a bogus recording of me having a conversation with Brock. But I don't know how to prove it.

_I am not alone, _

I take a deep breath.

"You honestly expect anyone to buy that?"

"They aren't buying anything, Mr. Brooks. It's the truth."

"That's the biggest load of B.S. I've ever heard in my life."

_cause misery loves my company._

"You obviously got those sound bits from the videos taken in the basement. You put that fake tape together to try and prove your false theory. I'm not even going to entertain the idea that I was behind all of this. It doesn't make a modicum of sense."

_Leave me in the cold, _

"Mr. Hertz, unless you'd like for me to charge you with perjury, I suggest you present relevant and reliable evidence, or you sit back down and allow Mr. Brooks to return to his seat." The judge booms from my right.

_you better run away. _

Demetri cowers like a kid getting scolded.

"Yes, Your Honor. The defense has no further questions for Mr. Brooks."

_I'm going to dig a hole and bury all the memories we've made._

I smile to myself and get up to leave for my seat. As I walk past the creep, he discreetly puts something in my pocket. I pretend nothing happened, and sit down. I then take the note out of my pocket and unfold it.

_I don't need your condescending words about me looking lonely. _

Phillip

Mr. Heyman and Mr. Levesque have told me much about you. But those videos tell me all I need to know. You're not much of a man, are you? You seem afraid. Odd behavior for a professional wrestler, don't you think? Well, your testimony cost me my case today. You **do** **not** make a fool out of a man like me. However, if you'd like to prove to me that you **are** a man, I suggest you meet me behind the courthouse while the jury makes their decision. Or else.

-Demetri Hertz

My heart beats quicker. I knew this was coming, but I didn't want it to be true.

_I don't need your arms to hold me, cause misery is waiting on me._

People start to get up around me and I realize the time Thorne spoke of is already here. Everyone moves towards the door, and I debate on whether I should just go or if I should tell Rory. On one hand, I don't particularly want to get my ass kicked by this great mountain of a man. On the other, I'm not afraid of him, and he's touched a nerve with me. On one hand, it's be smart to walk away. On the other, my goddamn pride is getting in the way again. On one hand, I'm playing right into his hands. On the other, I don't really care. Hmm. _Why is the world so full of people who want to hurt me? _I'm running out of time to make a decision.

_I am not alone, _

I get up and follow the wave of people towards the door. The sharp, bitter wind cuts right through my jacket and suddenly my mind is made up.

_not beaten down just yet,_

I'm ignoring those voices that tell me this is a bad idea.

_I am not afraid of the voices in my head. _

I creep down the narrow road on the side of the building. The shadow of the courthouse blots out the sun, leaving an ominous black path in my wake. Almost like an alley.

_Down the darkest road, _

As I hear his footsteps behind me I turn around and walk backwards a couple steps.

_something follows me, _

I try to keep the fear from my face as he backs me up, the anger drained from his expression to be replaced by a cocky sneer.

_I am not alone, _

I stumble on a rock and fall to the frozen ground.

_cause misery loves my company. _

Shockwaves course through my body at the impact, and I try to scramble back up, but the pavement is all black ice. Out of nowhere, he extends his hand out to help me up. I stare at it skeptically until he grins a little.

"C'mon." I grab it and he pulls me back to my feet. My mouth starts to form the words "what the hell" but he starts to explain before I get the chance. "Hey, hey, hey I'm on your side, alright?" I take a step backwards and look hard at him.

_I am not alone, _

"I need to talk to you, and I knew you wouldn't come if I just asked nicely. It was all an act, and it had to be. I had to be looking like I was defending them earnestly, and giving the most ridiculous excuses for evidence possible so it'd look like I was trying to manipulate the system. I want those," he shakes his head and air quotes," 'men' locked up too."

_not beaten down just yet, _

"I really admire your courage, Mr. Brooks—" I cut him off, making a face.

"Call me Punk."

"Alright, Punk. It takes almost inhuman guts to make it through all of that, and then come here to tell your story. You're very strong. But that's not why I need to talk to you. I believe Paul sent you a text message a couple months ago?"

"Mmhm. Scared me shitless."

_I am not afraid of the voices in my head. _

"Well Paul spilled his guts to me, because I was his lawyer. If you haven't figured it out, Paul couldn't have sent that message. He was in jail. However, the person who did could endanger your life. Paul kept a close eye on the Ring Of Honor roster, since yourself, Brian Danielson, Colby Lopez and other talented individuals arose from their ranks. He kept this under wraps as best as he could, but he had one man earmarked as the "next big thing" and for what I've heard, the kid is just a bad apple. Dangerous, too. That's why you need to know about it. Something Whitney, I think his ring name is—"

"Tomasso Ciampa." I know exactly who he's talking about.

_Down the darkest road, _

"Yeah, that's the one. So Tomasso went to visit Paul in jail and got his phone. Paul told him to send you that text, and instructed the kid to carry out Paul's unfinished plan. Because you were rescued, he didn't finish it. Tomasso is just an absolute psychopath, and I think you might be in danger. You need to protect yourself. That's all I needed to say. I'm sorry if I frightened you, I understand you've been through a lot and I'm thoroughly impressed with you."

_something follows me, _

He holds out his hand for me to shake it. As I grab it, he grins a little.

_I am not alone,_

"Thanks for the heads up, I owe you one."

"My pleasure… Punk."

_cause misery loves my company._

Reviews?


	53. Chapter 53: Do It Now, Remember It Later

Chapter 53: Do It Now, Remember It Later

Ten of these ~ is a time change

Four of these • is a pov change

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the wrestlers mentioned in this story, or anything pertaining to WWE and TNA. I am well aware that the ages of the wrestlers in this fic don't match the time period of the fic. (I found it more sympathetic and believable for them to be younger, and that they'd garner more pity with a greater age difference.) I also moved AJ and Punk's marriage up a year. It was necessary to my story. Sue me. Violence, disturbing torture, blood, angst, language, slash, smut, (in earlier chapters) non-con/rape (in earlier chapters, mentions of rape (earlier and later chapters)

SONG: DO IT NOW, REMEMBER IT LATER BY SLEEPING WITH SIRENS

_Oh my, don't they hate to see us try?_

One awkward, unusual confrontation with what turned out to be nothing more than a scared, confused Tomasso Ciampa, and life was looking up. Just another guy manipulated by, surprise, surprise, Paul Heyman. I sat down with the kid and he told me everything, and I found none of it surprising. Paul made him feel like he'd never get out of the Indies unless he did everything Paul told him to. I explained how Paul could never get to him now, and he seemed incredibly relieved. Upon leaving the basement, I've become good at reading people, and he was telling the truth. And now, if you'll allow me to interrupt my recollection with a quick real-time update, for those skeptics, [for the love of all that is good, I'm working to accommodate people who don't exist. Just when I thought my mental health was in order.] Over a year later, Tomasso hasn't laid a hand on me and continues to enjoy success in ROH.

Demetri was right about a lot of things, and I consider him to be a real stroke of luck, but he was wrong about Tomasso being a bad apple.

He's a little strange, no doubt, but he's a good guy.

_come on say what you think, _

I lean against a wall in gorilla and mull the whole thing over again. _What kind of reception will I get? What has everyone heard about it? Are they angry I've been gone? I can't think of a better angle to come back to. In Chicago too! _A huge part of me says they went to the trouble because of all the shit I've been through.

_it won't mean a thing, _

But after being gone for so long, where else would they have me come back?I take another deep breath. I don't think I've ever been so nervous about being in front of a crowd. Especially not an ordinary RAW. But this isn't just an ordinary RAW. The foundation of my confidence has been shaken like an earthquake, and everything is different now.

_in the end we're gonna be just fine._

_Breathe. _

It's an empty slot in the card, they haven't announced my coming back and the crowd is probably expecting another match from the announced card. They've been chanting my name sporadically since I left, especially when AJ is out there, but that's different than being face to face with them. _What if they change their minds?_ Everyone's done great keeping this under wraps. I just hope I can deliver… and keep it together.

_We'll stare straight-faced, don't hesitate, see, why would we want to make you bastards wait?_

I take role of potential problems. Randal is back here somewhere, and I think if I see him before I go out I'll lose it. I know Randal has been champ the whole time that I've been gone. And I know he's having a title unification match at TLC against Cena. And I know he's booked to win it. Which means that the self-righteous asshole will be parading around here like he's king of the mountain just because he's a world champion ass-kisser. I know I'm going to have to deal with that mess sooner or later, but I'm picking later because I have a thousand other things on my mind right now. Brock isn't here. Pompous bastard works about three days a year. Forgiven or not, he's still a pompous bastard. Glenn doesn't worry me. I stand by my word that he didn't know what he was doing, he's apologized on multiple occasions. He's a good guy, really.

My stomach is in my throat.

_Breathe. _

I flip the hood up on a zip-up sweatshirt they gave me. I take it for granted sometimes, all the stuff they do for me. McMahon is still an asshole who hates my guts and doesn't care about my well-being. But they've pumped out brand new merch for me the day I come back. It's got my signature fist holding a lighting bolt with the Illinois flag stars in bright yellow on the front, and it says "Best Since 2005" on the back, the 00 in 2005 being the same Illinois stars. I put on my boots and kick pads earlier today and it felt almost foreign, but at the same time, right. I'm not wrestling tonight but I have a little scuff and I'm happy to welcome back my old friends. I'm on for TLC in a program with one of my dream opponents. I feel better just wearing them again. They meet black athletic shorts at my knees. I stare at the yellow stars for a while, until I hear the TV static that signals my entrance theme. I wait a split second before walking out to meet my first WWE crowd in months.

_Thank god, I got this chance, now I can say, so now we'll say, we'll say, we're gonna do what we want!_

It gets my heart pounding out of my chest, to hear the deafening roar of these people, who haven't forgotten me, haven't stopped loving me. I kneel down and rub two fingers against the ground, shaking them out and holding my wrist to my ear.

_Breathe._

I allow myself to go into autopilot as I have done this part a million times. "IT'S CLOBBERING TIME!" I yell as I get up, and take my hood off, turning around and holding my arms out to my sides. I walk backwards a couple steps before turning back, then climb the steps and up the ropes to each corner, holding my hands up and screaming ,"BEST IN THE WORLD!" After I'm done with my little ritual, I lean over the ropes to get a microphone from a tech around the timekeeper's area. I sit down in the middle of the ring and turn off my autopilot. _Now comes the hard part. _I fall all the way down on my back and keep my legs crossed, just staring up at the lights and soaking up Chicago's welcome back. _Jeff's right, _I think, smiling to myself, _I am a hometown boy, through and through. _

_Remember when they said that what we want could never be done? _

I wait for it to calm down enough that they won't drown me out. "So I take it you guys missed me a little?" They start a loud "CM Punk" chant. I get up to a sitting position and shake my head. Holding the mic up to my mouth, I tap the mat with my other hand. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You guys still make it feel like home. Feels good to be back in _my_ ring." Smiling, I remind myself that this was the reason I got myself better.

_Breathe. _

_No turning back. _

They quiet down a little as my expression grows serious. "I'm sure you've heard a lot of talk as far as the reasons why I've been gone so long. Some of it probably seems pretty ridiculous, or bizarre, but that weird stuff is probably the closest to the truth out of everything you've been told. But I'm here to set all of it straight."

_When it all comes crashing down, we'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah. _

"You guys know me by now, you know I'm not going to make my words 'soft and sweet' because I don't care if I have to eat them later. You people _deserve_ the truth, and I need to say it, because I'm tired of living in fear of this and I'm tired of letting them win. You guys know that I'm not perfect, I F' up and make mistakes. But I'm man enough to admit to it, and you know, you can't erase the truth. So I'm here to offer you the true story, before anyone else feeds you more BS. There are certain people in the back who did some stuff to me… some sick, twisted, sadistic stuff. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of hearing me address them by name on television. What I can say is that my 'best friend'," I make air quotes with my fingers, "Paul Heyman and my boss, the lovely Triple H wanted to…" I trail off and stare at the mat, trying to keep my composure and searching for the right words. I look back out into the audience, to be met with complete silence and people attached to my every word.

_Breathe._

"Let's just say they wanted to hurt me. Really, really hurt me. Bad. They're both nutcases, let's just be clear on that." I get some nervous laughter. "But really that's just stating the obvious. Here's where it gets real, though. The night of my Best vs. Beast match at Summer Slam, the last time you saw me, I was jumped in the hallway of my hotel in Los Angeles. Which is how I ended up in a basement in a random house somewhere in California. I was kept there for a week. Do you guys by any chance know of a guy name of Jeff Hardy?" The mention of his name alone stirs the place into a frenzy. Jeff's name is almost as taboo as Benoit's, he's hardly ever mentioned around here anymore. I'd get in major trouble for it, but they promised me open mic and I intend to make the most of it. Warms my heart to see his rabid following hasn't dissipated in his absence. "Well you might've heard that he's been out for a while. But I bet you're thinking 'CM Punk, you hate Jeff Hardy, what do you care if he's out or not?' Right? Not quite. Jeff and I have actually been close friends for a long time. So why don't you know that? The 'powers that be'," I look to the ceiling and wave my hands in the air, "aren't real pleased with him. So they couldn't know we were friends. Which means _you _couldn't know we were friends. But getting back to the point, our main form of contact was on the phone, because we couldn't have other people figuring it out. So I've called him just about every day since the beginning of time."

_Remember when they said that what we want could never be done? _

"But believe it or not, I couldn't call him when I was locked up in a basement. He thought something was up and came looking for me, and he ended up getting locked up too. Like I said, they've got their own vendetta against him. So the whole goal of taking me captive was to mess with me on a mental as well as a physical level." I run a hand through my hair, pausing for a minute on the uneven plane that resulted from the staples they had to put in my head.

_Well look who's laughing now! _

"And they did. That's a major reason why I've been gone so long. It's hard to express just what went down there and how it felt, but if you want to really get your head wrapped around it, take this into consideration." I take a deep breath and get to my feet, leaving the mic on the ground. I chew absently at my lip ring and tug the zipper of my jacket down, taking it off and leaving it on the mat. There are audible gasps all around me and I pick the mic pack up. I run my fingers around the white ridges that make up the faint word "WEAK" in scars on my midsection.

_We'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah. _

They're even worse on my back, standing up purple in long slashes that stretch all the way across. Those aren't even close to being gone. I'll have to wrestle with them for a long ass time, but it doesn't really matter. It'll give the heels something to target in promos anyway. I see shock and horror, expressions that mirror those of my friends a couple months ago. "So I'll let you use your imagination as to how I got these. Bear in mind that similar crap happened to Jeff. That, I think, was the worst part. It wasn't what they did to me physically, it was how they used us against each other. By that I mean that they'd hurt Jeff to screw with my head and they'd hurt me to screw with Jeff's." I start pacing the ring slowly. "Damn, this is hard." CM Punk chants rise up again and I grin at them. "Thanks, you guys." _You've gotta keep going, _I tell myself. _This is your one chance to set the record straight with them. _"I honestly have no earthly idea of how long they intended on keeping us there or how they planned on covering it up, but it turned out I didn't have to. That's because these jerk-offs tried to mess with the wrong guy. That guy, along with a handful of other guys in the back got us out of there. I'm forever in that guy's debt, that's all you have to know about that. I don't play well with others though, and they are not by any means my friends. I don't have friends and I don't want or need them. So I was **gone** all this time to rehab physically and emotionally. But I'm **back,**" I slip back into kayfabe as simple as falling asleep, "to _prove_ to those jerks that they did not win. I'm back because, to be honest with you, there isn't a person in this world who should let a past nightmare dictate or cloud their future dreams."

_We'll do what we want, right now!_

"And, you know, I might've missed you guys too, just a little. Now all of that being said, I'm sure now that I'm back I've got a nice big bull's-eye on my messed up back. Maybe there's people who don't think I can back up all my talk anymore. Or that I'm weaker now than I was before. Or that I'm an easy target. Everyone is telling me I shouldn't come back."

_come on, come on, with or without you._

"That I'm too hurt, that I'm mentally scarred, that I'm done, that I'll never wrestle again. One of my personal favorites was 'Punk, you're too scarred up, no one's gonna want to look at you anymore.' Nothing will stop me from doing this, because this is what I love to do. All you people, the ones telling me I suck, the ones cheering for me, these lights that are always trying to blind me, this ring with the gallons of sweat absorbed in it, the locker room where everyone hates me, this microphone that always seems to get me in trouble, we all know how I feel about Chicago." I laugh. "All of it."

_We will never regret that, _

"There's nowhere I'd rather be. There's nothing I like more in the world than hearing someone tell me I can't do something. Because then I get the all too wonderful chance to say 'watch me'." I shrug. "But I could be wrong. God knows it's happened before. Perhaps I'm just ripe for the picking? Do you people think CM Punk is down for the count? Have you ever, in the ten years you guys have been stuck with me, seen me go down without a fight?" I raise my voice as I get more excited. "It's gonna take a hell of a lot more than that to keep CM Punk down, **Paul**! You'll have to run me over with a car to get rid of me, **Hunter**! It—"

"Sierra, Hotel, India, Echo, Lima, Delta… SHIELD." I get a good shocked expression on my face, mixing "I'm fucked" with "I'm not backing down". Reigns, Rollins and Ambrose, respectively, make their way down the stairs in the crowd, taking their time with arrogant smirks on their faces. I keep some shaky confidence as I pick up my sweatshirt and throw it into the audience. I stay within vicinity of a corner so I can back into it when this gets started. They each come up on one side of the ring, meeting in the middle and backing me up a step. Seth looks at his teammates smugly.

"We think this is all _very touching, _Punk."

_don't you cross the line, don't you cross that line. _

Roman speaks next.

"The Shield realizes that you were at some point one tough hombre, whether you still are is up for debate. Problem is, man, sometimes you let this," he points to his chest, "get in the way of this." He taps his temple, then crosses his huge arms across his chest. Dean slowly walks towards me, forcing me a couple more steps back. I put up my fists and get into a tentative defensive position. He taps the plastic box with the WWE logo on it that holds the mic with his finger and leans close to me.

"Don't go getting it in that little smartass head of yours that _anyone_ is gonna take it easy on you in light of any of that crap you were complaining about. _Especially_ us." Seth stalks over to us as well. He sticks out his bottom lip and makes a mock sad face.

"Poor baby." Roman closes the gap and they're now all dangerously close to me.

"We've been waiting over four months for you to get your ass back here." Ambrose's face clouds over as his tone turns serious.

"Just because you're crippled emotionally and physically does not excuse you from justice." I laugh halfheartedly as I back all the way into the turnbuckles behind me.

"What 'injustice'," I say it like it's ridiculous, "could I possibly have committed? I haven't been here in months, remember?"

_We'll stare straight-faced, don't hesitate. _

Ambrose aggressively gets up in my face, inches away from me. When he speaks it's low and predatorial, and he eyes me like a piece of meat. It makes me shiver involuntary. The guy is so intense.

"First of all, do **not** interrupt me." His voice is eerily calm, but there's a definite threat of danger in his tone. He traces his fingers along the white ridges that make up the scars across my abdomen. I make a face, conveying that it's uncomfortable but I'm not in a position to jump on him for it. "But you're exactly right, Punk. Exactly right. You've left the entire WWE high and dry for months while you attempted to clean up the train wreck that has become your life." I let anger come into my expression and my eyes widen, my fists clenching at my sides.

"You had be—" I'm stopped short by his open hand striking my face.

_See, why would we want to make you bastards wait? _

I drop my mic and go after him with forearm shots and one roundhouse kick before I'm planted on the ground by a standing enziguri from Seth. They proceed to put the boots to me until Ambrose calls them off above me. I blink slowly and try to get up but my equilibrium is messed up now. Before I know it Reigns and Rollins have picked me back up to my knees and they hold me there while Ambrose picks his mic back up. I fight feebly but a hard hitting right hand from Roman quells my efforts. Ambrose leans down to eye level with me.

"**What did I tell you about interrupting me, Punk?**" I pick my head up and glare at him with rage and frustration. Chicago is booing up a storm but the adrenaline of being out here again pumping in my ears drowns them out. "Now if you'll let me **finish**… you never gave any sort of explanation to us," he motions to his fellow Shield brethren, "or them," he points to the Universe, "during that time. All anybody ever talked about was 'Where's CM Punk?' You weren't here for **months** and yet they still care more about you than workhorses like me, my brothers, Dolph Ziggler, Tyson Kidd or anyone else who's been working their asses off while you're off playing 'damsel in distress' with Jeff Hardy. That," he points his finger in my chest and I try to lunge at him, only to be yanked back by Rollins and Reigns, "is injustice. We, as I'm sure you know by now, are a Shield against injustice. And we're going to make you pay." It starts with the pair of them throwing me back to the mat, then they're suddenly on me like a pack of dogs. I hold up my arms in an effort to cover up, but it does next to nothing. Every time I try to get up it's met with a combat boot, and I never even see whose it is. They're masters at the three-on-one assault, and they've always made it look really good. I told them not to hold back, and I wanted it to look as real as possible. If that means I end up getting the hell beat out of me for real, so be it. It'd be far from the first time that's happened. They go all out with a Dirty Deeds, pause for me to get up, Spear, pause for me to get on my hands and knees, Curbstomp. My ears ring after, those kids have a hell of a finish. They're not done yet either. Dean and Seth's hands bringing me back to my knees and a huge scream from Reigns signals a triple powerbomb is on the way. They lift me on his shoulders and slam me down with an intensity unmatched by any other team I've ever witnessed. As I lean over so I'm face down on the mat, I sell unresponsive/knocked out, but I want to laugh, do ring-angels, something! This is wrestling, man! This is all I've ever known. This has been my life since I was seventeen!

_Thank god, I got this chance, _

And regardless of what Hunter and Paul took from me, they can't take this. I'm comfortable in my own skin for the first time in months. Being in front of thousands of people, doing the one thing I love, the only thing I loved for a long time, until April came around. There's nothing like it. The rush is incomparable. I love these people for loving me, even when I didn't love myself. I love them for putting up with my shit. I love them for cheering me while I bore my soul tonight. I love all the people who stopped their booing for ten seconds at home and actually listened to me. I love them for keeping an open mind, for being able to step back and remember that it's a show, and actually believe me when I tell them what happened. These people, who don't even know me, supported me when my own friend turned his back and tried to destroy me. Life works in mysterious ways. Ambrose picks up the microphone that fell from his hands during the attack and starts pacing the ring. "I didn't want to do it, Punk! We were friends, we helped you, you turned your back on us, you left us for dead, you forced our hand! Why'd you make us do it?!" He screams, bordering lunacy. I smile into the mat. It's so funny to me, the way our business works. This guy, standing victorious above me with his little 'thug' friends, ranting like a madman, they all think he hates me for leaving, when in reality, I'd _still_ be gone if not for him. When in reality, Dean rescued me in my darkest hour. When in reality, Dean dragged me out of hell when my on-screen 'best friend' put me there in the first place. The crowd, aside from the smarks, would never believe that the men determined to be my 'undoing' are the ones who stopped it. In short, Dean saved my life, even though he's now acting as if he wants to end it.

_now I can say, _

Oh, wrestling.

_so now we'll say, _

You crazy bastard.

_we'll say, _

Finally, all this crazy anxiety has subsided.

_we're gonna do what we want!_

Look at me, Hunter, look at me, Paul, get it through your thick skulls that nothing you do will keep me down. Things don't always work out the way you want them to. That doesn't mean the way they work out is wrong. Maybe this all happened for a reason. Maybe I needed to prove it to myself that I'm actually what I say I am. Maybe it took being stripped of everything to find out what I really had. Maybe this is what I needed. Maybe before I can really live, I needed to die. So I've done that. Somehow, I feel better than ever. Maybe a little less trusting, maybe a little more damaged. But more down to earth. I'm closer to who I want to be, and after all, isn't that what life is about? It's the journey, not the destination, that's what they say. My journey sucked, but I won the war. Everything comes full circle in the end. Who's panicking now?

«««««»»»»»

_Remember when they said that what we want could never be done? When it all comes crashing down, we'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah. _

Well it isn't me.

I know that when I think back to all the bad things that have happened to me in my lifetime, this will be at the top of the list. I still can't wear a belt. I still flinch when Glenn comes near me. I still get nervous when I have to work a match with Randal. I can't use thumbtacks. What I could do, rather easily, is throw a giant pity party and think of everything I lost, and feel really bad for myself. But where would that even get me? Instead, I prefer to look at everything as a lesson. So, what did I learn from this? I made a list while I wrote this, and I pasted it to the bottom.

That which does not kill me can only make me stronger.

Friendship transcends hardship.

It's okay to trust someone else more than I trust myself.

Just because someone betrayed me once doesn't mean everyone will.

I don't have to do everything on my own.

The only thing that can overcome hate is love.

Forgiving, and being forgiven, is the kind of joy I didn't know existed.

People make mistakes.

Focusing on the positive makes it easier to forget the negative.

People aren't always who they seem to be/ who they say they are.

I'm stronger than I give myself credit for.

Strength means standing up, standing tall, and sticking to my guns. But it also means keeping my emotions in check, myself under control, my pride at bay and knowing my own limitations.

It doesn't matter what people say about me as long as I know who I am.

Wrestling has always been there for me and will always be there for me.

It's okay not to trust someone as long as I have a reason.

There's no substitute for a strong spirit and a thick skin.

Unrealistic expectations lead to disappointment.

Set attainable goals, and know what qualifies as attainable.

There's just no good left in some people. Know how to recognize that.

The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. It creates enemies, though, and lights a fierce fire in you to exterminate those enemies. USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE!

Backstabbers are only powerful when my back is turned.

Hope is only lost if I let it go.

It's okay to accept compliments, and it's okay to believe them.

Giving up doesn't always mean I'm weak. It means I'm strong enough to let go, and confident enough to admit that I'm not always right.

Victory is so much sweeter when I achieve it after suffering defeat time and again.

Life isn't black and white. There's a lot of gray area.

Revenge is ugly. It's so easy to just hate someone. It's so much harder to forgive.

Strength comes in many different forms.

As long as I have my friends, my family, I'm never truly alone.

I'm lucky to have friends that I can count on to help me no matter what the circumstance.

My shortcomings do not define me.

32\. I need to take a page out of Hardy's book and live life to the fullest.

So what does all this mean? What's even the point of this whole damn thing, which I've spent over a year finishing? There's something final about writing things down. It's like a confirmation, that they aren't just thoughts in your head, they actually happened and that's actually how you feel about it. That's seriously it, Punk? Not exactly… I'll tell you why. Maybe this knowledge will help you, like it helped me. Maybe someone will learn something from those two insurgents with a distaste for authority and an inability to surrender. What did I accomplish from writing this God forsaken epic? Something priceless. The most important thing I learned from this experience.

NEVER LET PANIC TAKE OVER. YOU ARE IN CHARGE OF YOUR OWN DESTINY. NEVER FORGET YOUR PAST, BUT DO NOT LET IT CONTROL YOUR FUTURE.

I really do hope that Hunter and Paul read this. I don't know how they would, but they do all kinds of shit they shouldn't be able to do. Guess what, you guys? I took this shitty fucking thing you did to me, and I turned it into something valuable. So I'm gonna keep doing me, and I'm sure someone is doing you in prison. Hey, don't drop the soap, guys. As the good man Ivan Moody once said, C'est la vie, adios, good riddance, fuck you.

And just in case you were wondering, I didn't survive without leaving a piece of myself in that hellhole.

Because I'm not a survivor.

I'm a fighter.

And this battle doesn't stand a chance.

_Remember when they said that what we want could never be done? Well look who's laughing now! We'll do what we want to, said we'll do what we want to yeah. _

A/N: Ivan Moody is the vocalist for heavy metal band Five Finger Death Punch. This quote is from their song Under and Over It.

A/N: Can't believe I'm saying this, but this is the end, you guys. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I've learned so much from all of you. I can't even begin to describe how you've changed my life. Thank you to Deb, for being my mentor through all of this. Thank you Angelina, for sticking with me and helping me build confidence. Thank you for not making me more uncomfortable than I already am in my own skin. This experience has changed my life, and I am so incredibly grateful for all the chances I've had to grow as a writer and as a person. Thank you for allowing me to share my passion with the world. Thank you for allowing me to infiltrate your imagination for 15 minutes a night. I worked my ass off to write this, thank you for making me feel like it was worth it, for encouraging me and making me smile. I hope I can be a writer that you all can be proud of. I have more stories in the works, so keep your eyes peeled.

If you take anything away from Panic, I really hope it's "be yourself". At the end of the day, no matter what anyone says or does to you, you always have your integrity and your self-respect. Never let anyone take that from you.

I love you guys. Thank you for everything.

Godspeed. Live long and prosper.

-SOSXE


End file.
